The History Books Forgot About Us
by MaryEvH
Summary: New York City, 1931. Richard Enjolras, Jr. is fresh out of law school, trying to make a name for himself in the Big Apple. Sparks fly when he meets pretty bartender Éponine Thénardier…but what happens when he finds out she might have something to hide? E/É 1931 AU, rated T for language, possible sexual content and alcohol usage/references. May go up. R&R!
1. Meeting Her

**A/N: Hello hello, my dears! I'm back again :) I'm trying something a little different this time, and it's going to require some research on New York City in 1931, so updates may not be as frequent as they were for One, Two, Tick, Tock, for those of you that read it. (If you have any fun facts or important things that you think I'll need to know about 1931 New York, please PM me!)**

**I've never done an AU like this before, so I hope you enjoy it! For my regular readers, you know the drill. For those of you who are new to my writing, this is the aforementioned drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!**

He pulled open the door of the the small building that contained the Whitehorse Tavern, his favorite in New York City. Inside, there appeared to be only a small general store. He casually walked up to the counter and said to the associate, "The streets are quiet tonight."

"Back room," the man murmured.

He pulled open the door, and the familiar smells of alcohol and a slight bit of dust filled his nose. He breathed in deeply, smiling to himself. This was an old tavern, the second oldest in New York City, and he loved it. It was a classy place, not like a lot of the bars around town that were more like brothels. He'd been coming here with his father since he was old enough to drink, but tonight, he was on his own – just out of law school, trying to make a name for himself, and desperate for a drink.

"Ah, Richard!" Mac, the owner, greeted him at the door, a broad smile on his face. He was in his mid-fifties, with a large belly, a bald head, and always smiling. He'd been a family friend for as long as the younger Richard Enjolras had been alive, and was one of the few people who could get away with calling him Richard, besides his own father. "Good to see you again. Are you by yourself tonight?"

"For tonight, yes," the young man answered, shrugging off his overcoat. "I'm almost 30 years old, I think my father will understand if I want to have a drink on my own," he laughed.

Mac smiled. "I know you just graduated from law school, Richard, so this is my gift to you. Have as much as you want tonight, on the house," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Mac, I can't possibly – "

"I insist!" the portly man laughed. "Go on, son; you know right where the bar is. And that reminds me, I have someone to introduce to you," he added as they approached the bar. "Éponine!"

Enjolras followed the man's gaze to the bar, where a pretty young woman was wiping out a glass. She looked to be about his age, or a little younger, with bright eyes and a pretty smile. Her dark hair was tied back into a bun, and she wore a black apron over her dress. "Yes, sir?"

"This young gentleman is a good friend of ours," Mac grinned, clapping him on the back again. "He just graduated from law school, so anything he drinks is on us tonight!"

Enjolras looked down, grinning and shaking his head as Mac walked away. "Don't listen to him; I'll pay," he insisted in a low voice as soon as the man was out of earshot.

The girl chuckled, tucking back a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. "Well, I don't think it'd be wise for me to disobey my new boss on my first night," she murmured back, still grinning.

He grinned back. "I didn't think I'd seen your face around here before; I've been coming here for years. Richard Enjolras," he said, extending a hand. "Call me Enjolras."

"Éponine Jondrette," she said, shaking it with a charming smile. "Call me Éponine," she added with a laugh.

He grinned. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Jondrette."

"Pleasure's all mine," she laughed. "Can I get you anything?"

He pondered for a moment. "Ahh…bourbon," he decided, unable to wipe that stupid smile off his face every time he looked at her.

"Coming right up," she grinned back, setting down the freshly-cleaned highball class. "You know…you're the first customer I've actually been able to talk to," she said, carefully pouring in the bourbon and setting the glass down in front of him. "The others that have come in tonight have just been so…stoic."

He swirled the drink a little. "Not your type either?" he asked, taking a small sip.

"Not particularly," she said with a small chuckle. "That's the thing about working as a bartender – you kinda turn into an unlicensed therapist by default."

He took another drink, holding the bourbon in his mouth for a split second before he swallowed. "I'm a lawyer; on some level, I understand your pain," he answered dryly. "Also, when did Mac get this bourbon? This stuff is fantastic."

"That would be courtesy of yours truly!" she grinned, taking a small bow. "My father had me mixing drinks at his bar once I was tall enough to see over the counter. That's his favorite kind. When Mac hired me, I decided to bring it over, give it a try."

His grin grew wider. "I knew I liked you, Éponine Jondrette," he laughed. "Your taste in bourbon is excellent."

"Well, thank you, Richard Enjolras," she laughed. "Be right with you, sir," she called to the gentleman who had just sat down at the bar, before leaning in close to him. "Important question…favorite whiskey?" she murmured.

"Jack Daniels, of course," he murmured back, taking a slower drink of his bourbon.

She grinned. "Good man. I'll be back," she said, before walking down the bar to take the other man's order.

Enjolras grinned to himself, swirling the liquor in his glass as he took another drink. "Éponine…" he murmured, almost tasting the name on his tongue. "Éponine Jondrette…"

"Richard!" he heard Mac's voice. "I see you and my new bartender have taken a liking to each other, eh?"

Enjolras chuckled. "She's a charming young woman, to be certain."

Mac chuckled again. "I know how you are with charming young women, Richard," he teased, slapping him on the back again. "You're starting to get a reputation as a bit of a heartbreaker around New York City."

"Oh, what's that supposed to mean?" Enjolras laughed.

Mac raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "You, a charming young woman, a bottle or two of wine…when that happens, people tend to think you only want to get the pretty ones in bed for a night and then leave them."

"That was years ago. I'm a changed man, Mac," he said almost immediately. "I'm almost 30; I know how to act like an adult. Especially around women."

The older man reached over the bar and poured himself a drink. "All the same…you have to be careful with the charming ones, no matter who you are," he said, taking a swig and walking away.

* * *

Enjolras hung around the bar and chatted with Éponine for several more hours. They cracked jokes together, good-naturedly squabbled about different kinds of alcohol, and giggled about Mac's silly mannerisms when he wasn't watching. Unless she was taking care of another customer's order, there was never a moment of lag in the conversation. Enjolras almost felt like he was flirting with her, but not in the way he used to flirt with women. He had no ulterior motives, no agenda, no design on her…they were just talking, and it was fine that way.

Éponine yawned as traffic started to slow down. "What time is it?"

Enjolras pulled out his pocket watch and clicked open the lid. "Half past eleven," he answered, putting it away. "When do you get off?"

"Midnight," she answered, suppressing another yawn.

He chuckled as he watched her try to shake it off. "Are you sure you're gonna make it that long? I can make some coffee back at my place and bring it over here for you, if you want."

She smiled gratefully. "You'd be my angel if you did, Enjolras."

The young lawyer grinned – he was suddenly thankful for the dark lighting that covered his blush – and pulled his car keys out of his pocket. "Give me about 10 minutes," he said, walking away from the bar.

"I'll be here!" she laughed.

It seemed like seconds before he returned to the bar, carefully carrying a small mug of liquid energy. "Here you are," he smiled as her hands wrapped around it. "Fair warning, I brew my coffee strong," he laughed.

Éponine sighed in relief as she took it from him, taking a small sip. Her long, thin fingers cradled the mug tightly, and smiled. "It's perfect. You really are a saint, Enjolras," she said.

"That's not something lawyers hear said about them a lot," he laughed, sitting back down in front of her. She grinned at him over her coffee as she took another drink, but didn't say anything. When she kept quietly staring at him, Enjolras finally remarked on it. "What?"

She set the mug down gently before answering. "It's just…odd to me, that we've known each other for a few hours and you offer to make me coffee when I'm clearly not going to stay awake until the end of my shift. I feel like…not a lot of people would be that generous to an almost-complete stranger," she murmured, looking away and taking another drink of the coffee as she awkwardly finished.

Enjolras hesitated a moment, before gently placing his big hand over her small, thin one on the bar. "It was nothing, Éponine," he said softly with a gentle smile. "I'm always happy to help, in any way I can."

A full smile spread out over her lips. "That means more to me than you know," she whispered. The clock behind them struck midnight right as she spoke. "Ah, finally! I get to go home and rest," she said, gently pulling her hand from his to put the liquor bottles away. Enjolras felt almost a slight tingle on his palm when the contact ended, and almost thought he felt a chill down his spine. However, he brushed it off and smiled as he watched her.

"Things can get dangerous in this part of town at this time of night," he remarked. "Want me to walk you home?"

She chuckled again. "You mean it, don't you?"

"Mean what?"

"That you'll help in any way you can," she said. "No one's ever promised me that before."

Enjolras smiled. "I absolutely mean it. Now come on, let's get you home." Éponine smiled back as she hung up her apron, putting on her coat and coming around the bar. He offered an arm, which she took, and they walked out the front door, waving to Mac as they left. "Now, which way are we going?"

"My apartment's on West 10th, so we're not actually going too far," she laughed, squeezing his arm a little tighter as they stepped out into the chilly night air.

He nodded. "Well, the sooner we get you home, the more time you have to sleep," he grinned. They chatted all the way to her apartment, going up the rickety metal stairs to her second-floor door. It was too brief, he thought, and he wished he didn't have to say goodbye to her so soon. Something about her personality captivated him, and the more time he spent with her, the closer he was to figuring it out.

"Thanks for walking me home, Enjolras," she said a little shyly, jerking him out of his reverie.

"My pleasure," he said, smiling. "Hey, Éponine…" he started to say, suddenly not in control of his mouth. "Would you…like to have dinner with me sometime this week? I'd ask if you want a drink, but my guess would be you're probably kinda sick of the bar scene."

She chuckled nervously, biting her lip and looking down at her shoes. Afraid he'd crossed a line, Enjolras quickly started to backtrack. "If you don't want to…"

"No, no, I do," she said quickly. "It's…just…"

He paused. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I'd love to," she smiled.

He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, smiling back. "Does Friday night work for you? I can pick you up around 5:30."

"Sounds perfect," she grinned. "I'll see you then," she said, opening the door. "Goodnight, Enjolras."

"Goodnight, Éponine."

* * *

Her smile was gone as soon as she closed the door. She leaned against it, sighing heavily as she listened to his retreating footsteps, his whistling slowly fading out as he walked away. Slowly, she let herself sink to the floor, holding her knees to her chest and trying not to cry as she started to rock back and forth. There was so much he didn't know…so much she felt obligated to tell him…

_But the truth would break his heart…_

_What makes you think his heart would break, Éponine? He could be just like the rest, pretending to give a damn about you so he can throw you by the wayside later. What makes this fancy lawyer any different? You'd just be a toy, a pretty thing on his arm for a little while, and then he'll be gone._

She shook her head to clear it, standing up and going to the back of her small apartment. She refused to think about it. Not now. Éponine hung her overcoat in the bedroom closet with the other coats, trying to think about something other than Richard Enjolras…but when she stopped and thought about it, he was the most memorable part of her first night on the job. He stuck around all night, even when he wasn't drinking, just to talk to her. He seemed so…genuine, someone she could actually get to know. Maybe he was different after all…

_We'll see on Friday night at 5:30, I suppose._

**A/N: So what do you think Enjolras is going to do? And what might Éponine have to hide? Please review, and PM me for the answers to the questions! No spoilers ;)**


	2. Dating Her

**A/N: Hey guys! Time for the first date chapter! :D A couple of people noticed that I kind of forgot about Prohibition in the last chapter (thanks, Deep Forest Green and ConcreteAngelRoxHerHero for calling me out on that!) so I went back and reposted the first chapter. Hope you enjoy this one, and please let me know if you catch anything else! I enjoy your feedback and constructive criticism. R&R!**

Éponine put the finishing touches on her makeup as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. It was Friday night, 5:00 in the evening, and she was about to go out to dinner with Richard Enjolras. She was thankful that she had the day off; she wouldn't smell like a bar on their date.

_Oh my God…this is a date. I'm going on a date. With a lawyer._

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing nerves, and smoothed the front of her long red dress. Everything was going to be fine. All she had to do was breathe…right? Éponine paused and put a trembling hand to her forehead. She was an absolute fool to do this; she was hardly the sort of girl that someone like Richard Enjolras should be spending time with, let alone having dinner with. She was just grateful that he would never find out the truth…

_He can't find out. I won't let him._

The last half hour raced by, and before she knew it – before she was ready for it – she heard a knock on the front door of her apartment. "Coming!" she called, crossing herself quickly before opening the door. There he was, in the same suit and tie as the last time she'd seen him on Wednesday. "Hello, Enjolras," she smiled.

"Hello, Éponine," he smiled back. "You look beautiful."

She looked down at her shoes, trying to hide her blush as she grinned. "Thank you," she said when she regained the courage to meet his eyes. She was thankful that his smile never faltered.

"Ready to go?" he asked kindly. Éponine nodded and stepped out the door, locking it behind her. As soon as she turned around, he offered her an arm, and together, they walked down the steps to the sidewalk to his car. "So…where are we going?" she asked with a small smile.

Enjolras grinned. "The Stork Club, over on West 58th," he said, clearly excited. "It's only a couple of years old, and it's already one of the nicest places in the city. My father and I were taking clients to dinner there when I was still in law school, as soon as it opened," he laughed. "I really think you'll like it." She was immediately alarmed, but did her best to maintain her composure.

"It sounds fantastic," she said, barely managing to smile. Her heart was racing, and she did her best to keep her breathing steady, willing her palms to keep from clamming up.

"Éponine? Are you well?" he asked, clearly concerned.

She swallowed hard. "I'm fine," she said, hoping her smile would be enough to convince him. "Just a little jittery," she chuckled. I hope we're almost to the car…

Enjolras frowned for a moment, but relaxed when they got to the car. "Alright…well, it's not a long drive from here, so you'll be able to eat something soon. That'll do you some good," he said, opening her door. She smiled at him again as she got in the car – it was a Model A, and she could tell from the smell of the leather that it was a new one. _This is just even more proof that he's out of my league…God, why am I doing this…?_

She folded her hands in her lap, looking down as Enjolras got in and started the car. He frowned again to himself as he looked at her – she was clearly nervous, which was completely understandable, but he could tell that wasn't all…he racked his brains as he turned the corner towards West 58th. She looked…almost like she'd rather be somewhere else…like she didn't want to be with him. The thought gave him an antsy feeling, and he didn't like it. He was quietly thankful that it wasn't a long drive to West 58th from her apartment.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, reaching out to put a hand on her arm as he drove. "You look ill."

Éponine nodded again. Stubborn as ever, this one, he thought to himself. "I'm fine, Enjolras," she answered. "I think you're right, though…I should eat something," she said, half to herself. "I haven't eaten a lot today, come to think of it."

"Well, you're in luck…we're here," Enjolras answered with a smile, stopping the car in front of the door. "Ready?" She took a deep breath, before smiling and nodding. "In that case, stay right there," he laughed as he got out of the car, coming around to open her door, offering her his arm again as he closed and locked the door. Éponine noticed she was trying hard to keep herself from squeezing the life out of his arm as he walked up and opened the door, ushering her in first.

She took in her surroundings as she timidly stepped in the door, Enjolras shutting it behind them. Smoke filled the air, and a grainy record somewhere was playing an upbeat jazz tune. All around, she heard silverware and plates clinking, a low murmur of constant chatter, punctuated by the occasional laugh from one table or another.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Stork Club," a gentleman at the door said. "How may I help you?"

"Good evening," Enjolras answered, letting Éponine take his arm again; she felt much more secure when he did. "I have a reservation for two under Richard Enjolras."

The young man checked his list and smiled. "Right this way, sir, miss," he said, unhooking a golden chain and ushering them into a back room, filled with more tables and people. Éponine was shocked at the sheer size of the room – she had never been in such a big place, outside of the bars where she'd worked.

"Good evening, please follow me to your seats," a waiter said as he appeared from nowhere to guide them through the smoky room to a small table that rested against the wall. Enjolras pulled out Éponine's chair, allowing her to take a seat first. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water for me," Éponine said, managing a shy smile.

"Same for me," Enjolras said.

"Very good. I'll have those as soon as possible," the waiter smiled, walking away from them as Enjolras grinned at Éponine.

"So what do you think?" he murmured. "Like it so far?"

Éponine hardly knew what to say. "It's…wow," she laughed. "This is really spectacular."

Enjolras' grin grew wider. "I knew you'd like it. Oh, also…don't look for too long, but Charlie Chaplin's over my left shoulder; he's having dinner with Clark Gable," he added coolly, scanning the menu. "I noticed them when we came in."

Her jaw dropped, and Enjolras could hardly keep himself from laughing. She looked back and forth from him to the two men at another smoky table on the other side of the room, her face still a picture of shock. "Wha…_that's Charlie Chaplin?"_ she hissed in disbelief. "We're eating dinner in the same room as _Charlie Chaplin?"_

The lawyer across the table was now grinning ear-to-ear, clearly quite proud of his spotting. "Pretty cool, huh? My father and I have seen quite a few high-profile people here before. For a while, we had a competition going to see which of us could spot more celebrities here. I got pretty good at it," he winked.

"Is that a challenge, Mr. Enjolras?" she grinned.

"Perhaps," he grinned back as the waiter returned, setting their drinks on the table. "The question is, would you accept a challenge of the sort, were it issued to you?"

She contemplated her answer. "Hmm…perhaps," she winked back.

The rest of the date flew by, and neither of them could stop smiling and laughing all through dinner or dessert. Éponine managed to spot Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi before they left; she and Enjolras were about to start putting money on who would be able to spot more people! He was glad to see her transformation throughout the course of the evening. Enjolras much preferred to be around the Éponine that he'd met at the bar – always smiling, laughing, ready with a good joke at just the right time.

He'd told himself before he picked her up that he wouldn't ask her out on another date, but when he was walking her back up the stairs to her apartment, his mouth betrayed him again.

"Hey, Éponine…" he started again, the same as last time.

"Hmm?"

"I don't know if you've heard, but the New York Philharmonic is pairing up with the New York City Ballet to perform Stravinsky's Firebird Suite," he said. "It's a really incredible piece. One of my favorites, actually. My father and I are going to see it next Thursday night…and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us."

Éponine paused for a moment to consider. This evening had gone really well, much better than she expected…and his proposition now sounded like nothing more than sitting in a concert hall and enjoying an hour or so of good music and ballet. _Can't go too badly…_ "Sure, sounds great," she smiled. "I'll ask Mac for the night off."

Enjolras' grin only grew. "Perfect. I'll see you around, Éponine," he said. She smiled, and to her surprise, he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Goodnight," he smiled.

She was too taken aback to respond for a moment. "Goodnight, Enjolras," she managed to say coherently, even managing a smile, before walking into her apartment and closing the door, squealing with delight when she thought he couldn't hear. He chuckled to himself as he jogged down the steps back to his car, already anticipating the next Thursday night.

_What is it about her…or is it me?_

**A/N: Yay for a good first date! Let me know what you think, guys :)**


	3. Liking Her

**A/N: Me again! Sorry this update took a while; I only just finished this chapter! Hopefully chapter four won't take as long. This is mostly filler, but I hope you'll enjoy! R&R!**

"Mr. Enjolras, your son is here to see you," the secretary said as she cracked the office door ajar.

"Send him in," Richard Enjolras Sr. said from the other side of the door, shuffling the various papers on his desk. It was a busy Monday for the offices of Enjolras and Combeferre, Attorneys at Law – both men had several criminal cases on the local dockets, and they had to be in court for each one. Mr. Enjolras was prosecuting a thief by the name of Thénardier, and while he predicted it would be an easy case to win, he was always wary of the defense.

He pulled out his pocketwatch, sighing in mild irritation at the time. _Richard had to come see me_ now? _I have a case in 20 minutes…_the elder Enjolras loved his son, but the boy still frustrated him.

"Hello, Father," his son's voice jerked him out of his reverie as he walked into the office with a nod, sitting down on the other side of the desk.

He nodded back. "Hello, Richard. Colette said you wanted to see me; what's going on? And make it as brief as possible; I have to be in court at 2:00," he added, checking his pocketwatch again.

The younger man sighed in mild irritation and went straight to his point. "Father, I'm bringing a girl to Firebird on Thursday."

He froze behind his desk, his hand still reaching out for a stack of papers to put in his briefcase for court. After a tense moment, he turned his head to look at his son. "What sort of girl, Richard?" he asked in a voice that thinly concealed his bitterness.

"Mac's new bartender, Éponine. I've already been on a date with her, and I really like her. She's…really great. She's sweet, charming, and absolutely gorgeous…"

"That's what you think now, when you barely know her," his father snapped. "Believe me, I know. Your mother entranced me for over 30 years, between courting her and being married to her…and then she left us, Richard. I only discovered the depth of her feelings – or lack thereof – after she killed herself."

"Father, that was 26 years ago," Enjolras said insistently. "I was only a child when Mother died. And besides, Éponine is not Mother."

"Trust me, son. It doesn't work that way. At their core, women are selfish creatures, all of them," his father answered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go to court," he said primly, gathering the last of his papers and standing up to leave.

The younger Richard Enjolras also stood, nodding sharply. "I'm still bringing Éponine to the ballet Thursday. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't make a scene in public," he said coldly, before turning on his heel and exiting the office.

"Give your father a bit of pity, Richard," Colette said as he came out. "He's been a changed man since he lost your mother all those years ago."

Enjolras waited until his father exited the lobby to answer her. "He's had long enough to find a way of coping that doesn't involve demeaning women at large, then," he muttered. "He never even says her name anymore, Colette. It was Maëlys. Since she died…it was almost like she never existed. And when he did acknowledge her life, it was only with anger and bitterness. Like she didn't love us enough to stop being sad."

He sighed quietly, leaning on the secretary's overly tall desk. "I have a few vague memories of the year or so before she died, when I was about four…I would see her sitting alone at the kitchen table, crying…and I would always ask her, 'Mother, why are you sad?' She would wipe away her tears, try to smile, and say to me, 'I don't know why I'm sad, Richard. I wish I did, so I could try to stop it, but I can't stop being sad.'" He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he remembered his mother. "Being four years old, I didn't really understand why she couldn't stop being sad…but I remember always trying to make it better for her, in all of the simple ways a little child can think of."

Colette gave him a sad smile and put a hand on his shoulder. "You always were a good son, Richard." He smiled sadly, patting her hand and walked back out to his car.

Enjolras spent a long time driving around the city, going nowhere in particular, thinking about his mother, his father, Éponine, his father's words about her, what on earth it was all supposed to mean…had he been wrong to ignore potential relationships all his life? The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how angry and bitter his father still was, even after 26 years. From what he remembered as a child, his parents had loved each other more deeply than he could have ever understood. How had that all changed so quickly when she killed herself all those years ago?

He caught himself repeatedly driving by the general store that contained the Whitehorse, and finally parked outside it. The young lawyer sat in his car for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to go in. Would Éponine even be working? And if she wasn't, what would he do? Mac didn't usually keep more than one bartender anyway, especially with Prohibition becoming the law…

_But even so, what do I do if she's there? Tell her my father doesn't want to see her at Firebird? I can't do that. And there's no way I could talk to Mac about this; he'd never take me seriously again if he knew I have a crush on his bartender._ He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. _Come on, Richard; get it together. Do you want to be with her or not?_

_It's not a question of whether or not I want to be with her. It's a question of why I keep driving past here when I have nowhere else to go._ He sighed again, still frustrated. _For God's sake, what_ is _it about that woman…?_

Enjolras stared at the general store door for a while, debating on whether or not to go in and talk to her. Out of nowhere, the door burst open and there she was, carrying two large bags of trash to the dumpster. Panic involuntarily raced through him for just a moment, and he shrank down in the driver's seat. _Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me…_

Then her head turned.

_Dammit!_

Éponine raised an eyebrow when she saw him, laughing at the sheepish look on his face. _Well, no choice now, Richard…_he thought to himself, getting out of his car. "What brings you here, stranger?" she laughed as she set down the bags, rolling the tension out of her shoulders.

"I heard that Mac hired a doll recently, and I decided to investigate the claim myself," he grinned. "What about you?" he laughed.

"Oh, I'm the new bartender. Mac hired me recently," she grinned back as she opened the dumpster and threw in one of the bags of trash. "So how's it going?" she asked cheerfully.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure of what to say before it all came spilling out. "Well, the ballet Thursday doesn't start until 7:30; would you like to have dinner before? We can go back to the Stork Club, or we can go somewhere else; it's up to you. Or I can cook."

"Sounds great," she grinned. "Wait – you can cook?" she laughed.

_Dammit, why do I open my mouth?_ "Since I was 14," he admitted, only slightly shamefaced. "What kind of food do you like?"

"Well, Italian's my favorite," she confessed.

He grinned. "Good to know. So I'll pick you up at 6:00, we'll eat dinner at my apartment and go to the ballet?"

"Sounds great to me," she answered. "Oh, how should I dress?"

"Togged to the bricks."

"Perfect. I'll see you Thursday night at 6:00," she smiled. To his surprise, she leaned in to peck his cheek before waving goodbye and going back to the Whitehorse. He stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, slightly shocked. His fingers involuntarily reached up to graze the spot that her lips had touched, and with a grin, he hopped back into his car and drove back to his apartment, already ready for Thursday night.

_Oh, Éponine Jondrette…what you do to me._

**A/N: Hehe! Please review!**


	4. Chasing Her

**A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you SO MUCH for your patience as I try to get on a regular update schedule! These next few weeks will be hectic for me; I've got a really important band trip this weekend, and it's almost crunch time for finals. (Eeeeeek!)**

**Anyway, here's chapter 4! I apologize for the ridiculous length, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. (Also, a HUGE shout-out goes out to OpheliaTheActress; I couldn't have finished this without you! :) ) You all know the drill!**

Finally, Thursday night arrived.

Enjolras straightened his tie as the pasta sauce finished simmering on the stove. He was about to leave to pick up Éponine for dinner, and he wasn't sure why he was so nervous. He hadn't been able to get his mind off of the way she had so quickly kissed his cheek three days ago, and then acted like it was completely normal. _Father never mentioned that women could be so confusing,_ he thought as he walked out to his car.

The whole drive to West 10th, he caught himself wondering what she would look like tonight. The dress she had worn on their first date had been absolutely lovely…what would it be tonight? He shook the thoughts out of his head as he climbed the stairs to her door, knocking three times. "Come in; it's open!" he heard her holler. Enjolras chuckled a little, shaking his head, and opened the door.

Her apartment was small, but clearly clean and well kept. He had stepped into a small sitting room with a couch and recliner; the kitchen was right behind it. A small hall was in front of him that he presumed led to her bedroom, judging by the ray of light that flooded through the open door and onto the floor. "Éponine?" he called out, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm in the back; come on through!" she yelled again. With another laugh, he proceeded tentatively down the hall.

When he reached the threshold of her room, he couldn't believe his eyes.

She was leaning towards the mirror on her dresser, putting in her earrings, but the deep-red dress hugging her body was what caught his attention. His heart nearly stopped when he noticed the open back and neck. Her long, dark hair was up in a bun, with a couple of small curls framing her face. When she turned to look at him, he noticed that her eyes were gently lined with makeup, and her cheeks lightly covered with blush. "Hello," she said, smiling breathlessly.

For the first time in a long time, Enjolras was at a complete loss for words. She was breathtaking, a very picture of beauty. "Hello," he finally managed to whisper. "You look…incredible."

She chuckled nervously, smoothing the front of the dress and looking down at the floor. "Well, you did tell me to be togged to the bricks," she teased. "But thank you."

He laughed a little. "It's perfect, Éponine. Even in my favorite shade of my favorite color."

She grinned. "Pure luck, I suppose."

"Yeah…" he murmured. "That must've been it." He couldn't believe how distracted he still was by her – the dress, the hair, the makeup, everything…she was the most beautiful woman he'd seen in a long time. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, picking up a sheer red shawl that was lying across her bed and draping it over her shoulders. "If you are," she grinned.

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode," he chuckled, ushering her in as he re-locked the door and shut it behind them. "Make yourself at home."

His apartment was mostly bare, but clean. There was a sofa in the living room with a reading lamp, and a coffee table in front of it. In the back corner was a Steinway and Sons grand piano, the lid open on the tallest peg, several books and even more separate pages of music spread out on it. Tall bookshelves lined the rest of the walls. The hallway to the bedroom was on Éponine's right, the kitchen to her left. The susurrus of wind outside soothed her as she looked around.

"You have a really nice place," she said, smiling.

"It's not much, but it's home," he smiled. "Dinner's on the stove."

"Perfect," she said as they walked into the kitchen. Enjolras seated her at the table, before getting both their plates and serving spaghetti and meatballs.

"I have another extra treat," he grinned, going to a locked cabinet under his kitchen sink. He reappeared a few moments later with a bottle of red wine, grinning from ear to ear.

"You sneaky bastard!" Éponine laughed. "How'd you manage to get your hands on that?"

"I have friends in high places," Enjolras grinned, pouring two small glasses and handing one to Éponine. "So how was your day?" he asked as they sat down to eat.

She laughed again. "Long and difficult! I had to get up early this morning to finish cleaning my apartment, and Mac's been calling me in to work daytime shifts most of the week, since he let me have tonight night off for the ballet," she grinned.

He grinned back. "I'm so glad he did. You're going to love it. My father will be meeting us there."

"Sounds perfect," she said. They paused for a while, eating and enjoying the other's presence, before Éponine spoke again. "You know…I really don't mean to pry, Enjolras, but you mention your father all the time…what about your mother?"

Enjolras looked away, setting his fork down. "I was actually just talking with my father about her earlier this week. She committed suicide when I was four," he said. "She got some sort of melancholia after I was born that never went away."

Her face immediately transformed into shock and sympathy, one hand covering her mouth. "Oh, my God…I'm so sorry, I didn't mean – "

"No, it's alright," he assured her, putting his hand on hers on the table, and she uncomfortably relaxed. "I'm okay to talk about it; just don't mention her around my father. Ever since she died…he's just been an angry man. I don't know what it was about my mother's death that changed him, but he's been festering for the last 26 years."

She put her other hand on top of his, as if in sympathy. "What was her name?" she asked softly.

He smiled. "Maëlys."

"That's beautiful," Éponine said, smiling a little. "I know how it is to lose your mother…mine got a fever after she had my little brother. I was only about 9 or 10 when she died. We didn't have the money for a doctor."

Enjolras' face adopted the same sympathetic look that hers had moments before, and he reached out to her free hand with his. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

She shrugged, a sad smile on her face. "What can you do?"

He pondered for a moment before he answered. "Remember fondly, and live to make them proud," he said, smiling gently and running his thumb back and forth over her hand. "What was your mother's name?"

She smiled. "Coralie."

"Beautiful," Enjolras murmured as he picked up his fork again. "She certainly named her daughter well," he grinned. "Where's she come up with Éponine? It's lovely."

She blushed heavily, and was thankful that the lighting in his apartment wasn't too bright. "If I remember correctly, my name comes from the ancient Gaul _Epponina_. She was the wife of a man named Julius Sabinus, who rebelled against the Roman Empire. She protected her husband from the Romans for years, and chose to die with him when he was finally captured. My mother was quite the history lover."

Enjolras' eyebrows went up. "Wow…prime example of true love."

"Something you don't find a lot these days," she said quietly, taking a small sip of her wine. "At least…it's not something I've found yet."

He smiled gently as he set down his wine glass, taking her hand again. "You'll find it someday, Éponine," he murmured. "I know you will."

She smiled back, gently weaving her fingers through his. His big hand was gentle, warm and calloused against hers. "It's nice to know someone still has faith in me," she murmured.

Enjolras brought her hand to his lips, making her blush one more time. He grinned again, proud of himself, before he checked his pocketwatch. "The ballet starts at 7:30, and it's almost 6:30. We should go if we want to meet my father and get good seats."

* * *

Éponine was in awe from the moment they pulled up at Carnegie Hall.

The building's façade was huge and imposing, and she couldn't help but feel caught up in her surroundings as she watched the dozens of men in suits and women in long dresses going into the hall, laughing and chatting casually to each other.

_How did I end up here when I'm just a speakeasy bartender?_

"Alright," Enjolras said as he got out of the car, adjusting his jacket. His voice jerked her out of her reverie, and she turned to look at him. "My father has said he'll meet us right by the house doors. Ready?"

She nodded, smiling stiffly. "Sure."

"Don't worry, Éponine," he said gently, offering her an arm. "You look absolutely stunning, and you have nothing to worry about, anyway. Everything's going to be fine." She took his arm, still blushing and they joined the file of people flowing into the hall.

Enjolras quickly spotted his father, standing by the door to the theatre in a suit almost identical to his. He waved with the arm that wasn't escorting Éponine to catch the man's attention, and he responded with a nod, closing the gap between them.

"Hello, Richard," he said stiffly.

"Hello, Father," Enjolras answered in almost the same stiff tone. "Éponine, this is my father, Richard Enjolras, Sr." he said, gesturing to the broad man in front of them.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," she said softly with a slight curtsey.

"Father, this is Éponine," he said, mimicking the gesture to her.

She made eye contact with him again, and immediately regretted it. She could feel his cold eyes judging her, trying to make her feel like she wasn't good enough for his son. However, she held it until he turned around and walked away into the house.

Enjolras sighed in mild frustration, and Éponine looked at him in worry. "Don't fret; it's not you," he said. "Like I told you at the apartment, he has an engrained dislike of all women since my mother died. Come on, let's catch up to him and get our seats. We want to be ready when the ballet starts."

* * *

Éponine skimmed the program as she and Enjolras sat down next to his father; she was suddenly thankful that he was in between the two of them. The background chatter washed over her as she read through the long list of names – characters, dancers, members of the orchestra, they went on for pages. "So, what's the ballet about?" she leaned over and murmured to Enjolras.

"It's based on an old Russian folk tale," he explained. "The story centers around the hero, Prince Ivan," he said, pointing to the name in the program. "He sees the Firebird in the garden of Kashchei the Immortal and captures her. She begs Ivan for her life and agrees to help him get to Kashchei in exchange for her freedom."

"The Firebird's a she?" Éponine asked in surprise.

Enjolras chuckled. "Yes, she is. Anyway, Prince Ivan sees 13 princesses in the garden of Kashchei the next day, and falls in love with one of them. Ivan asks Kashchei for her hand, and they argue. Kashchei starts sending magical creatures after Ivan, but the Firebird bewitches them into a dance before putting them to sleep with a lullaby. However, when Kashchei awakes, the Firebird enchants him into another dance. She then gives Ivan the secret of his immortality."

"Which is?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"His soul is contained inside a giant egg," Enjolras grinned. "Prince Ivan destroys the egg, which kills Kashchei and lifts all of his dark enchantments. All of the 'real' beings awake, and celebrate Ivan's victory with him and the Princess he loves."

"Sounds like it's going to be incredible," she grinned.

"It will be," he grinned back. "This is my fourth time to see it, and the first three times always kept me completely captivated."

The house lights started to go down, and gradually the chatter ceased. The maestro, whom Enjolras murmured in Éponine's ear as he entered was Arturo Toscanini himself, bowed to the audience's polite applause before descending to the orchestra pit.

The music started, the curtain went up, and the ballet began.

Éponine's jaw dropped at the elaborate sets and costumes, and the beautiful dancing on stage. Everything flowed perfectly with the gorgeous music, and Enjolras even pointed out the characters as they appeared, to help her keep them straight. More than once, a sudden sforzando in the orchestra would catch her by surprise, and she'd instinctively grab his hand. When she realized what she'd done, she'd quickly return her attention to the stage, hoping he didn't notice her blush.

Enjolras could hardly pay attention to the ballet. He so loved watching her take it all in, a little at a time. He pointed out the characters he'd mentioned to her in the story, and smiled gently whenever she grabbed his hand in surprise. She was constantly alert; even when the music calmed down, the dancing kept her captivated. The awe and wonder in her eyes was one of the more fulfilling things he'd seen in his life.

By the finale, she was completely drawn in; he thought her eyes were going to pop right out of their sockets. The last two minutes of triumphant brass fanfares soared through the hall as Prince Ivan and his Princess ascended the steps to the top of the set, and when the last chord rang, the audience erupted in loud applause. Éponine was on her feet with the rest of them, clapping with an enthusiasm he'd never seen in her before.

"So what did you think?" He grinned as the lights came back up and they picked up their belongings. "Did it live up to your expectations?"

"It surpassed them by so much!" she laughed. "That was absolutely incredible. I see why you love it so much, Enjolras."

From behind him, he heard his father's quiet, derisive snort. "Such a simple-minded, dingy little girl," he muttered under his breath as he shrugged on his overcoat.

His son bristled at the comment, but chose to ignore him. _Don't give him any ammunition, Richard._ "I'm glad you enjoyed it so much, Éponine," he smiled. "I'd hoped you would."

She grinned again. "If you gents will excuse me, I've got to make a detour to the ladies room," she said. "I'll be right back."

"Alright, we'll wait for you right here," Enjolras called before his father could say anything else. He smiled as she left, before his father grabbed him by the arm to get his attention.

"Enough, Richard."

"Enough what, Father?"

"When do you draw the line between prosecuting the poor and dressing them up for the ballet, son?" he snapped. "Where does it end?"

"Not with her," Enjolras snarled, jerking his arm free of his father's iron grip. "Éponine is not one of the low-life poor you prosecute in court, Father. The fact that she works in a speakeasy is not an imminent representation of her character. She _is_ a good person, and I won't hear otherwise."

The older Enjolras snorted again. "I've raised a fool. One minute, you have this girl dressed up for the ballet, but just you wait, son. Once you turn your back, she'll turn into a grifter. A moll."

"Well, maybe I won't turn my back at all, then," he answered coldly as Éponine reappeared. "Ready to go?" he asked kindly. She nodded with a smile, smoothing out the front of her dress again. "Good; I'll take you home. I'll see you tomorrow, Father," he said stiffly, before giving Éponine his arm again to leave the theatre.

She spoke again once they were in his car. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm?" he murmured. "I'm fine. It's just my father…" he sighed in frustration again as he started to drive back to Éponine's apartment. "He thinks that if he can't have someone to love, then I can't, either. I don't want to sound like a petulant child, but it's completely unfair."

"No, you're completely right," she said. "I was always told as a little girl that everyone finds love in their own time. Maybe some people won't be able to hold onto it as long, but he should at least let you have the chance to go out and find it." She paused. "And when you find it, Enjolras, your father should approve of your choices."

At her words, small smile crossed his face as he turned towards West 10th. "Thank you, Éponine. I'm glad you're on my side."

* * *

He was almost regretful when he pulled up by her building and walked up the metal steps with her to the front door. It had been a perfect evening, and he wasn't ready for it to end. This was his least favorite part of every time he'd seen her – somehow, he always ended up walking her home, and he hated watching that door close behind her.

"Thank you for bringing me with you tonight, Enjolras," she said, still smiling. "And I hope you can smooth things over with your father."

He snorted a little. "Well, that one's doubtful, but I'm glad you came," he smiled. "I wouldn't have wanted to share that performance with anyone else."

She grinned again. "Hey…you wanna come in for a nightcap? I have some contraband of my own in the kitchen," she grinned. "Working at a speakeasy has its perks."

Enjolras wasn't about to pass up a chance to spend more time with Éponine. "Absolutely," he smiled. She grinned, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "Welcome back to my apartment," she laughed. "Make yourself at home; I'll get the liquor."

Enjolras couldn't help but smile as he surveyed his surroundings again while she walked into the kitchen. He unlaced his dress shoes and took them off, leaving them at the door as he followed her towards the kitchen. "I'm not sure if you like Jack Daniels or not, Mr. Enjolras, but it's all I've got," she grinned, holding up a bottle and two shot glasses.

"You remembered," he said, grinning broadly.

"Of course I remembered! It's my job to remember patrons' preferences," she laughed. "Go ahead, sit at the table," she said, popping open the bottle and pouring a liberal amount into each glass. He grinned as he sat down at the table, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head as he watched her carefully carry the alcohol over to him. "Enjoy," she grinned, setting one of the shot glasses in front of him, before sitting across from him at the table.

Enjolras raised his glass in a toast. "To us," he said, smiling.

Éponine raised her glass in return. "To us," she echoed, mimicking his smile. The glasses clinked together, and together, they shot.

"Aaaaaaahh!" Enjolras exclaimed, shaking his head back and forth rapidly as the whiskey burned down his throat. "I haven't done that since law school!" he laughed, setting down his glass.

"You want another round? Or will that be too much to handle?" Éponine winked.

"Hit me!" he laughed.

Together, they did three more rounds, before Enjolras decided he'd had enough. Once she put the liquor away, they decided to sit and talk for a little while longer; Enjolras didn't feel like leaving, and Éponine had no desire to kick him out. They moved out to her couch when the kitchen chairs got too uncomfortable, and seemingly never ran out of things to talk about. She told him about growing up the oldest of five siblings, living over an inn; he told her about growing up an only child, and his friends from law school. The only reason he knew time was passing was the way her hair was gradually falling out of its bun, and that his body felt gradually more tired when he tried to adjust his sitting position.

"I've actually known Combeferre since I was a child; his father and my father are law partners. And then there was Grantaire…" Enjolras laughed. "I was never particularly close to him, partly because he was always drinking himself into a stupor. More often than not, he would miss class because he was either hung over or still drunk from the night before."

"Not a name I've heard at the Whitehorse, surprisingly," Éponine laughed. "Did you all go by your last names?"

He nodded. "Pontmercy and I both came from wealthy families, but the others were poor. They worked day and night when they weren't in class to put food on the table for their families, or to pay off their school loans. My father actually wrote checks to most of their families to help them finish paying their tuition last year."

Éponine raised her eyebrows. "That's very generous."

"My father can be a good man, when he's not blinded by his emotions," Enjolras remarked. "It just upsets me, the way he thinks of and treats women. I mean…" he paused, and she turned to face him a little better. "I haven't known you more than two weeks, and already…I feel really close to you," he said a little lamely. "Being around you…I'm happier than I've been in a long time."

She smiled back. "I know exactly what you mean," she said. "When Mac introduced you to me at the Whitehorse…I knew I was going to enjoy being around you. And so far…I really have, Enjolras."

Enjolras smiled at her. "I'm glad you say so," he said softly, reaching up to tuck one loose curl out of her face.

She blushed a little at his touch. "It's true," she murmured, smiling.

Enjolras' smile never wavered as he turned to face her on the sofa. His fingertips tarried along her jawline, gently tracing the outline of her face, before one came to rest under her chin. He suddenly felt incredibly aware of the touch of her skin against his, the gentle sound of her breathing, the look in her eyes…was it anticipation? Almost unconsciously, he imperceptibly leaned towards her, his lips parting ever so slightly.

He felt her breath mix with his for just a moment before Éponine closed the gap between them, and his eyes closed almost instantly. Her mouth was small, but warm, soft and sweet against his. Enjolras' hand rested on her arm as his lips gently moved with hers, their heads slowly tilting in opposite directions. His other hand moved up to cup her jaw as hers went to rest on his chest; her touch sent chills down his spine. His hands reached around to rest on her back, in her hair, just as hers went underneath his suit jacket. The warmth of her small hands through his shirt intensified his chills, and he pulled her even closer. "Éponine…" he whispered longingly between kisses.

She pulled back from him long enough to catch her breath, before putting a finger to his lips. "Shh…don't speak," she murmured, leaning in to kiss him again. Enjolras kissed back, unable to refuse her. His left arm tightened around her waist; the other hand tangled further into her hair. His tongue traced over her lips, begging entry, and she immediately complied. Their mouths opened further as their bodies pressed closer; he could almost feel her heart pounding against his chest. One minute, her hands were grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, the next running over his back, sides and chest. His hands ran up and down her back, marveling at the softness of her skin.

They kept kissing, hands everywhere at once, until Enjolras finally had to stop for breath, pulling away from her with a gasp. "Éponine…what was that?" he whispered, still slightly out of breath.

She was already looking away from him, and also breathing heavily. "It was perfect," she whispered. "But…"

"But?" he asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She bit her bottom lip, clearly trying to figure out what she wanted to say. He had to go _now_, before things got anymore involved…but no one had ever kissed her like that before. No one had made her actually feel loved or wanted before, and she loved that feeling.

_But he can't know, Éponine._

"I…" she whispered, trying to form a sentence that was the last thing she wanted to say to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked nervously. "You can tell me, Éponine. It's alright."

She pulled her arms in, folding her hands on her lap as she had before their first date. "It's just…I don't know how quickly I want to take this," she said. "I mean, we've only known each other for a couple of weeks…that kiss was wonderful, but – "

Enjolras cut her off by putting a finger to her lips. "It's fine, Éponine," he said gently. "I completely understand where you're coming from. It just kind of…happened. I was surprised at myself, to be honest."

She smiled again, clearly relieved by his answer. "Thank you for staying with me this long," she said quietly.

"Of course," he said, smiling at her before checking his pocketwatch. 10:30 pm. He sighed quietly as he put it away. "Damn…Combeferre and I have to go into our fathers' office tomorrow; I should get going."

Éponine nodded, standing up as he did. "Thank you so much…for everything tonight," she said as she opened the door for him. "I really loved spending so much time with you."

"I did, too," he smiled. "Goodnight, Éponine."

"Goodnight, Enjolras."

* * *

She waited until his car drove away to punch the wall. Why, dear God, _why_ did this man have such an effect on her? The way he'd smiled at her, touched her face so gently, kissed her so sweetly…

_Can people really fall in love so fast?_

_Maybe _they_ can, but _you_ can't, Éponine! He's going to end up just like the rest; you're just begging to get your heart broken again. He may care about you now, but only because he doesn't really know you, and he never will._

She walked back to the kitchen, locking the whiskey and shot glasses away as she thought about him. I_'ll wait until I hear from him to decide anything about his character,_ she resolved. _Let's hope it's soon._

* * *

Enjolras got back to his apartment around 10:45, still thinking about the way the night had ended. What the hell was he supposed to make of that kiss? It had started off perfectly, just the way he thought it would…but then, when it finally ended, she had looked…_scared_.

_What on Earth is she so afraid of...?_ He picked up the phone in his kitchen, dialing his best friend as he thought about her.

"Ugh…Enjolras, do you realize what time – ?"

"Combeferre, listen to me," he said.

**A/N: So how about that kiss, huh? As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcome, and in fact, encouraged! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Missing Her

**A/N: Hello, my lovely readers! Thank you SO MUCH for all of your feedback on the last chapter! I'm so glad you liked it so much :D This chapter switches back and forth between Éponine and Enjolras quite a bit, but I put in lines to try and help you keep the POV switches straight. If you need any clarification on anything that happens, just PM me! Anyway, read, review, and most of all, enjoy! ****(Especially since I'm not really sure how I feel about this one, reviews would be helpful…)**

**(P.S. Bonus points to anyone who catches the Doctor Who reference!)**

"So let me get this straight," Combeferre said, setting down his cup of coffee. "You, Richard Enjolras, my best friend since childhood, have actually gone out in public with a _woman?_ _M__ore__ than once?"_

He sighed irritably. _"Yes,_ John Combeferre." The two attorneys' sons were sitting at the coffee table in Enjolras' apartment the morning after the ballet, discussing the ongoing development of his budding relationship with Éponine. "I just don't know what to think…" he sighed. "I haven't ever _really_ dated, but Éponine is…different. She almost makes me want to give it a go, and I've never been able to say that about anyone else."

"We are talking about an actual _woman_, correct?" his friend asked, only half-jokingly. During their time in law school, Enjolras had been nicknamed the "Marble Man" for his seeming inability – or even desire – to connect to or understand women. For so long – almost as long as John Combeferre could remember – his best friend had been a man fully devoted to his work and to his mind, but now, after meeting this mysterious speakeasy bartender, he seemed to be opening up at last.

The man in question rolled his eyes. "It's not like I could have cooked one up in a laboratory, or something, 'Ferre. Be logical. I'm not even a scientist."

"Just had to be sure," Combeferre chuckled to himself, checking his pocketwatch. "It's almost 9:00; we should go in to the office soon," he remarked.

Enjolras nodded, finishing his coffee and standing up. "You're right. Let's get going."

* * *

Éponine woke up late the next morning, the sun streaming in through her bedroom window. She rubbed her eyes, frowning at the bright light as she slowly staggered out of the warm bed. She was glad that Mac was giving her the day off; she was going to need it.

After a quick bath and breakfast, she slipped on one of her less-fancy skirt and blouse outfits, before heading out to the rough side of town, where the remnants of her family lived. Things at her house had slowly spiraled out of control since her mother had died 10 years ago, and she was finally going to confront her father about the way he was taking care of her four siblings. Azelma was now about 25 – still unmarried, as far as Éponine knew – and Gavroche was about 16. The youngest children, twin boys, were only 13, and still subject to Thénardier's cruelty, especially since they had been unexpected and unwanted in the first place – they'd been dumped on the inn's doorstep as newborns, and the church was too full to take them, leaving Thénardier an angry widower, stuck with two more mouths to feed.

Éponine wound her way effortlessly through the crowded New York streets; she'd been doing it since she was a child. By now, she knew her way around New York like nobody's business. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone she passed. Thénardier had raised his children to be chameleons; they could blend in wherever they wanted.

It took a while, but eventually, she made it through all the winding alleys to get to the base for her father's gang, Patron-Minette. Since his tavern had been shut down by Prohibition, he had started an underground crime network. They had started with petty scams and pickpocketing, but now, he was dabbling in bootlegging to pick up some extra money. Even though Éponine worked at a speakeasy, it bothered her that her younger siblings were exposed to that daily.

She turned her head as she went down the alley, and immediately caught sight of a familiar face that nearly made her heart stop. "Hello, sweetie," his familiar velvet voice purred. The mischievous gleam in his eyes was still alive, and his smile was as dangerously charming as it had always been.

"Hello, Montparnasse," she murmured, doing her best to remain immune to him. "Have you seen my father?"

Montparnasse gestured with his head to the large flap of burlap behind him. "He's in there. He lucked out; they're not keeping him in prison while he's just on trial."

"Trial?!" Éponine exclaimed. "What did he get caught for?"

"Just petty theft," Montparnasse shrugged. "Multiple counts, but he managed to score a good lawyer. The prosecution's going to be a tough nut to crack, though. Name's Enjolras; from what my connections have told me, he's never lost a case."

Éponine's heart nearly stopped. _There can't be more than one family named Enjolras in town…but he can't mean…_

"Is that my girl Éponine?" her father's loud voice shouted through the burlap. She knew he wasn't going to get up to check for himself.

"Yeah, it's me, Father; I need t' talk to ya," she shouted back over Montparnasse's shoulder, gradually slipping into the rough speech she had learned as a child. Montparnasse chuckled at her, and the two exchanged a furtive grin. They had been childhood sweethearts and best friends for years, until Éponine finally managed to get out from under her father, while Montparnasse sank deeper into Thénardier's criminal ways.

"Th' 'ell 're ya doin' 'ere?" he yelled.

"Lemme in an' I'll tell ya!" she yelled back.

* * *

Enjolras gingerly sat down in his father's desk chair, surveying the office in an entirely new light. In all the years that he'd visited here – ever since his mother had died – he'd always been on the other side of the desk. Richard Enjolras, Jr. had always been pleading his case in lieu of the ability to take action.

_So this is what it's like to sit on the other side of the desk._

As he sat there, alone in the office, he thought about its regular tenant. For the longest time, his father had been his biggest hero, his inspiration for becoming a lawyer. But over the years, Enjolras' opinion of his father had slowly begun to change. The angrier, bitterer side was slowly coming out, especially as Enjolras and Éponine spent more time together. Going to law school and forming his own opinions about the world wasn't exactly helping the situation, either…but none of this tension had existed between them before Éponine.

He thought more about her as he started to organize the scattered papers on his father's desk, with another cup of coffee from 'Ferre. What was it about that sweet, smiling bartender that constantly kept him coming back for more? What was it about her that seemed to intoxicate him whenever they were together? The more he reflected on their two dates, the more he realized that being around her made him…_happy_. Not just a fleeting happiness that came from a witty quip, or a fun night out. No, he even felt himself light up whenever he saw her, or thought about her. For the first time in a long time, he felt an actual genuine happiness, instead of stress from work and school.

_She's definitely different from the rest._

* * *

Éponine pulled back the flap and went into her father's base. Even though it was the middle of the day, she could hardly see once the flap fell down behind her; it was pitch black. Somewhere, a match was struck, and she saw the outline of a face. "'Ponine!" her brothers' voices all exclaimed.

"Gav!" she cried. "Miquel! Armande! Oh, I've missed you so much," she said, hugging all three of them as tightly as she could. She thought the boys were going to break her spine with the tightness of their embraces, but she didn't care. "Where's Azelma?"

"She's out gettin' food," Thénardier answered gruffly, striking another match to light a lamp. Éponine and the boys squinted temporarily at the change in lighting, before they adjusted. "Now, whaddya want?"

* * *

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "Richard?"

"Yes, Colette?"

"There's a woman here to see you." His heart leapt for a moment. "The wife of one of your father's clients," she said.

He tried to hide his disappointment in his next question. "Surname?"

A pause, and murmuring female voices. "Tholomyés," Colette answered.

He frowned. It wasn't a familiar name to him, and his father didn't often have "clients" in the standard sense of the word. However, he trusted Colette. "Send her in," he said, relaxing in the chair.

* * *

"Montparnasse told me you got arrested again," she said irritably. "Who'd you try to rob this time, Papa?"

"For yer information, 'Ponine, it was th' middle o' the city, an' I wasn' lookin' at his face!" Thénardier shouted at her. "Some rich man tryin' ta be a gent. I been workin' me arse off tryin' ta feed yer siblings, and ye ain't even home ta gimme a hand! Ye had to run off an' get a job a' an'ther speakeasy!"

Éponine sighed in irritation. "I have to make a living for myself somehow, Papa, and our tavern was shut down! Do you expect me to be another mouth for you to feed my entire life?"

"Ye can feed yer own damn greedy mouth, but as long as ye ain't married, ye damn well better live under my roof, and ye follow my rules, ya damn girl!" he shouted, slapping her across the face.

* * *

Enjolras wasn't quite prepared for the woman that stepped meekly into the office. She was obviously quite poor, and had been for a while, even though she tried to hide it with the shawl around her shoulders. Her dress was in tatters, clinging to her skeleton of a form. Her hair had clearly been cut quite short a while ago, and was still growing back. Her cheeks were sunken in, her eyes hollow. She sat down in the chair across from him without even making eye contact, staring at the floor as if she didn't deserve to look at him. "Mr. Enjolras," she whispered meekly.

"Yes, I'm the younger," he answered gently. Something about this woman's fragility made him a little nervous; he felt like he was going to break her with one wrong word. "My father's in court all day today, so he asked me to hear his clients at the office."

She nodded. "Yes, I know…I actually came to see you."

Enjolras was surprised, but decided to see what happened. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

* * *

Éponine stumbled backwards from the force of the slap; her father still had a wicked hand, even after all these years. "Papa!" she shouted. "I have my own apartment, and my own job; I can live my own life!"

"Ye can live yer own life when I say ye can live yer own life, ye little rat!" Thénardier shouted, slapping her again. "I'm yer father; I'm the only grown man with influence in yer life, an' it's my job to watch out fer ya until yer married! What makes ye think ye can toss me out when ye don' need me an' come back when ye do?"

From the corner, she heard Gav shout her name, but she was still too dizzy to respond. Her father hadn't slapped her in a long time, and she wasn't used to the force of it anymore. "Papa, please!" She shouted. "I want to be free!"

* * *

The woman on the other side of the desk could hardly keep from weeping. "Please, Mr. Enjolras…my Felix never meant to cause harm to me, or to my daughter…"

"Ma'am, please show me your face," Enjolras murmured as gently as he could. "I want to help you, but I can't unless I know who you are, apart from Mr. Tholomyés."

She shook a little, pulling her shawl in closer around her dress. Her bony shoulders still poked out above it, like the wings of a flightless bird. Enjolras pitied the woman, who was clearly so terrified to be alone in the presence of a strange man. _What happened to this woman to make her so afraid? _"Please, trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"That's what Felix said, too…before he knew about her."

* * *

Montparnasse snorted from the entrance. "Free?" he said derisively. "You can never be free, 'Ponine. You're a Thénardier, no matter how you try to dress yourself up, try to get away, live somewhere else, speak prettier, or date prettier men. You'll always be a Thénardier, and you can never escape that fact."

She wheeled around and slapped him as hard as she could across the face, drawing blood where her nails scraped his cheek. "I don't need any judgment from you of all people, Montparnasse," she spat. "You're a petty thief who tries to dress himself up like a bourgeois, just so you can go nail some pretty girl and leave her the next day."

"Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch!" he barked in a tone that was all too similar to her father's. "We were always first, and we will always be first! _I_ should be first! I _was_ first!"

"And you did exactly what I just said you do, 'Parnasse. You had your way with me and left. What more do I owe to you?" she hissed, turning on her heel and leaving.

* * *

Enjolras frowned, trying to make sense of the scattered things she was saying. "Her, ma'am? Who's 'her'?"

"Our daughter…" she said, trying to hold back more tears. "H-he never even knew I was pregnant, until she was born. We always assumed she was his…but…" she broke down in sobs again. "Oh, Mr. Enjolras, I've been such a fool…I don't even know who her real father is…I always assumed it was Felix when she was a little girl, but now…as she's gotten older, I don't know…she looks so much like him…"

He was growing steadily more alarmed by the minute, especially as her story seemed to get more and more jumbled. He wasn't even quite sure why she had come to him, specifically, instead of waiting to see his father. "Ma'am, please…" Enjolras said as gently as he could, still with a hand on her arm. "I need to know who you are."

She looked up at him, their blue eyes met, and he couldn't keep in a gasp of shock.

"Fantine!"

**A/N: She's baa-aack! :D Please review!**


	6. Loving Her, Part One

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope everybody had a great weekend! So, I know that Fantine's appearance in last chapter caused a bit of confusion for some of you, but I'm going to try and clear it up as best I can in this. Please PM me if you notice anything else, and I hope you enjoy!**

"But…you died…" he stammered. "Years ago, in the hospital…"

Fantine snorted. "I might as well have been dead when they threw me out on that cart," she said bitterly, wiping away the last of her tears. "I woke up on an undertaker's table the next day; they said it was a miracle, but that they had to keep it hushed up. No one would have believed them, and rightly so."

Enjolras couldn't keep from running a hand over his face; he couldn't believe she was actually alive. Fantine Tholomyés was practically a legend around New York City, albeit not in a good way. As a young woman, she had a notorious reputation for her feminine wiles – which, he presumed, was how she had seduced Felix Tholomyés and had their daughter, Euphraise. The girl was more commonly known as Cosette, her true parentage known only to a select few. When he thought Fantine was dead, Felix Tholomyés returned to claim their daughter, but discovered her alive, which was when he quietly married her to avoid any further scandal. Before her daughter was born, Fantine could be seen on the streets at any hour of the day and night – the elder Enjolras had pointed her out to his son countless times when he was a boy, more so after his mother's death.

"So why have you come to me?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from being heavy with his surprise. He couldn't pull his thoughts out of his head; every time he looked her in the eyes, his father's voice echoed in his memory – _"That's why you need to beware of women – they may act sweet and pretty, but on the inside, they all just want to love you for a moment, and then leave you. They all end up like Fantine Tholomyés."_

"Because your father has refused to listen to me," she said. "I've been trying, and he rejects me."

The younger Enjolras frowned. "What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"You're his son," she said simply. "In my experience, the apple falls either very far from the tree, or very close to it." She paused. "Truth be told, Mr. Enjolras…word has circulated among the poor of New York City about how different you are from your father. His job is to try and make us out to be evil, throw us in jail for crimes we don't commit…and you, Mr. Enjolras, you look upon us with pity rather than scorn."

Enjolras was surprised at how shrewd she was. Time on the streets had not dulled her mind at all. "Colette said your husband is a client of my father's…" he said slowly. "What does that really mean?"

Fantine sighed. "That, Mr. Enjolras, requires a long story. Where would you like me to start?"

He sat back in the chair, gesturing for her to speak. "The beginning."

* * *

Éponine went to the market to look for Azelma when she stormed out of the Patron-Minette base, still fuming at her father's words. He'd had control of her, her life, her choices, for so long…she couldn't bear to sit in her apartment while her younger siblings suffered through that same fate. It nagged her day and night that she'd left them behind in trying to fend for herself, even though she had always felt like she'd done the right thing.

"Éponine! Is that really you?" a familiar, joyful voice called, jerking her out of her thoughts.

"Azelma!" Éponine exclaimed when she saw her sister. The two embraced tightly in the square, not caring who saw or passed them. "Oh, I've missed you and the boys so much!"

"We've missed you too, 'Ponine," her sister murmured, holding her out at arms' length to look at her. "I take it you've already been by home, then?" she remarked, nodding towards the angry, red handprints growing on her cheeks.

"How could you tell?" Éponine asked dryly. Azelma chuckled and hugged her sister again, rubbing her back. "So where were you just going?"

"Um…" Éponine hadn't had any sort of plan when she'd left in a huff from the Patron-Minette base; she refused to call it home. "I don't actually have any plans," she said. "Want to catch up for a while?"

The two sisters walked through the streets of New York arm-in-arm, talking about any and everything going on in their lives. Éponine talked about her new job at Mac's speakeasy, meeting Enjolras and her two dates with him; Azelma talked about the odd jobs she had picked up around town, Gavroche's early escapades with Patron-Minette, since he'd filled Éponine's post as lookout, and the possible beginnings of a relationship with Montparnasse. Éponine was surprised to hear that he had taken an interest in Azelma, but only slightly. What really alarmed her was Azelma's openness to the idea.

"'Zelma…are you sure he's a good idea?" She said unsurely; approaching the subject didn't make her happy. "I mean, he wasn't the best to me…"

"What are you saying?" Azelma asked. "How can you not trust 'Parnasse, and yet, you trust some rich lawyer boy you've only been out with twice?"

Éponine sighed when she sensed the hurt in her sister's voice. Azelma had always been easily offended, and it had always made sisterly advice-giving difficult for Éponine. "Azelma, hear me out on this," Éponine said gently, almost pleading. "I just want to protect you. Montparnasse didn't treat me very well, and I don't want the same kind of hurt to happen to you. He can act charming, but he can be equally terrible."

"He's gotten better, 'Ponine," she said quietly, before adding, "Especially since you left."

Éponine tried not to wince. "How can you be sure he's not acting? 'Zelma, I just don't want you to get hurt the way I was. Montparnasse…" she paused, unsure of what to say about the enigma - he could hardly be called a man - and sighed instead. "Just…be careful, sweetie."

"I'm a grown woman too, Éponine," she said irritably, pulling her arm away from her sister's. "I can make my own decisions, especially with 'Parnasse. Besides, have you told your lawyer everything about you?" Éponine bit her lip, shamefacedly shaking her head. "That's what I thought. Take your own advice before you try to give it to me," she said coldly. And with that, she was gone.

Éponine sighed, running a hand over her head as she turned around and walked away. _God, I hope she ends up okay._

* * *

Richard Enjolras, Jr. had found himself at a loss for words more times in the last two weeks than at any other time in his life. His elbows rested on his knees as he buried his face in his shaking hands, trying to wrap his brain around everything Fantine had just finished telling him. An uneasy silence hung in the air between them. Everything she said seemed to check out, but it was all so hard to believe…

He sighed heavily, trying to think of where on earth to even start.

Then, being a lawyer, he asked, "What proof do you have that will hold up in court?"

"If you look at Cosette closely, you'll see it," Fantine answered firmly; Enjolras couldn't deny the conviction in her eyes. "Especially as she's gotten older, the resemblance can only be called striking."

He sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes. "I want to believe you, Fantine, but…I can't wrap my head around all of this. As far as I know, your story checks out, but it's still so hard for be to believe you…it's so much for me to take in at once."

She patted his hand that sat on the desk. "I know, Mr. Enjolras." She paused, clearly remembering something, and he waited for her to speak again. "You know…if I remember correctly, your father kept a journal as a young man. If you can track it down in his apartment, you might find something about all of this, if he still has it somewhere."

Enjolras nodded. "I'll do my best." On a whim, he pulled out one of his father's business cards from the holder on the desk and scrawled down his address. "Come by my apartment next Saturday afternoon, and we'll talk more about this," he said, handing it to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Enjolras," she murmured meekly, taking the card and standing up to go.

"Call me Richard, Fantine," he said quietly as he showed her out. As she left the room, he saw Combeferre poke his head out from the other office door.

"Who was that? You two were talking in there for quite a while."

He sighed. "You might want to come in here for me to explain. Just make sure the door is tightly shut behind you."

* * *

Éponine wandered the streets of New York, not paying attention to where she was going or whom she passed. She was, of course, unhappy that Azelma wouldn't listen to her advice about Montparnasse, but she wasn't surprised either. All she wanted was to protect her sister…after she had left when Mama died, she had left her younger siblings to basically fend for themselves. She had never been there to be a role model, or to help them grow up. She tried not to think about everything she'd missed in their lives, but it was hard not to dwell on it.

_And now I'm all alone again,_  
_Nowhere to turn, no one to go to…_  
_Without a home, without a friend_  
_Without a face to say hello to…_

The more she wandered the streets, the more she thought. She thought about everything – her father, her few memories of her mother, her sister, her little brothers, what little childhood they had, Montparnasse, the rest of the Patron-Minette…

And Enjolras…

He was the one thing that was completely different from the rest of her life thus far. Éponine had grown up poor; the smells of home were dirt, alcohol, and unwashed people. A living was going out and picking pockets every day, and a meal was a scrap of bread with some cheese. Then he waltzed into the speakeasy on her first night, and suddenly…everything was different. For him, home had been a clean house – a real house, not some hovel in the slums of New York. A living was going to court and talking to clients behind a desk every day, and dinner was a real, full meal, like what he had cooked for her. They were so different, and yet so much about them was the same…Éponine wondered how it was that one person could have such an impact on her life, even though she'd known him for so little time.

When she had been a little girl, when Azelma was a baby and before Gav was even born, her mother would tell her about how love always found a way. She would tell Éponine her stories of when she fell in love as a teenager – he had been rich, older than her, and had loved her back. Even though she had ended up married to Éponine's father, she never forgot her rich boy. _It's as though my story could be hers all over again…_

As if by divine intervention, she found herself outside the towering building that housed _The Offices of Enjolras and Combeferre, Attorneys-at-Law._ She almost laughed to herself; she hadn't even been watching where she was going…_and look where I ended up._

She hesitated, wondering whether or not to go in and see him. Her mind flashed back to the few days before their second date, when he had shown up outside the speakeasy with no reason but to see her…what would he do if she showed up at his office with no reason but to see him? _No…he has more important things to do than see me…_

_But what if he wants to see you, too, 'Ponine? Would you deny him?_

_Of course not…but he can't know the truth about me. Azelma was wrong. I can always change, and I can always erase that part of my past. He doesn't have to ever know._

_But if you really care about him, 'Ponine, you'll have the decency to tell him the whole truth._

_…That's it, then. He has to know._

And so she pushed open the big door and walked in.

* * *

Combeferre took several long, deep breaths as Enjolras finished recounting the details of his meeting with Fantine Tholomyés. His friend was sitting on the edge of the desk – something that Enjolras, Sr. would have never allowed – but they didn't care, as long as he was in court. "Are you sure she's telling you the truth?" he asked heavily.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Enjolras answered, putting his feet up – again, an action usually considered taboo. "She did mention that my father kept a journal as a young man, which I know for a fact he did…she said I might find more information from his perspective there, if he still has it. It's shaky, but right now, it's our best bet."

His best friend nodded. "I suppose so. You could invent an excuse to go home, nick it from his bedroom, and take it back to your apartment before next Saturday?"

"Possibly," Enjolras frowned, running a hand over his face again. "Whatever I decide to do, it has to be done soon."

"What is it she wants to do, exactly?" Combeferre asked. "You can't really do much on your own without a law license, which you won't have for a few more months."

Enjolras sighed heavily. "She wants me to prosecute my father…but that's not the only problem I have right now. There's something else that's been preoccupying my thoughts for a few days…"

"Well, what is it?" Combeferre said irritably. His best friend sighed heavily, and said the words he never thought he'd hear.

"I love Éponine…and I'm going to tell her next time I see her."

He gaped. "But…how can you be sure?"

"You'll understand when it happens to you, 'Ferre," Enjolras said quietly, his voice solemn. "I don't know how it happened so quickly, or why…all I know is that I love her, and I have to tell her before I lose her."

* * *

"Good afternoon, miss," the woman behind the desk said to her as she walked into the lobby of the building. She was smiling at Éponine and seemed friendly enough. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Richard Enjolras; is he here?" Éponine asked, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

The woman chuckled. "The father or the son?"

"The son," she admitted with a bit of a blush.

The secretary smiled kindly. "He's in the office. Come with me; I'll show you in. What's your name, dear?"

"Éponine Jondrette."

"Right this way, Ms. Jondrette," she said, smiling. Éponine followed the woman through a small hallway to a door with a golden plaque that said "Richard Enjolras" on the front. She knocked firmly, interrupting the two men on the other side of it as they talked. "Yes?" Enjolras' voice called out.

"Another woman's here to see you, Mr. Enjolras," Colette said. "Éponine Jondrette."

"Send her in," he said. Éponine opened the door and shyly poked her head in, smiling when she saw Enjolras behind the desk. "Hello again," she grinned. "I take it this is Mr. Combeferre?" she said, also acknowledging the sandy-haired man sitting on the edge of the desk.

"Indeed I am!" he laughed, extending a hand for her to shake. "John Combeferre, as you noticed. You must be Éponine," he said with a warm smile. "Our friend Enjolras here has already told me so much about you."

"All good things; all good things!" Enjolras laughed when Éponine gave him a mock eyebrow of disapproval, and all three of them started laughing. However, when he looked closer at her, he could see something behind her eyes…what was it?_ Come to think of it, that laugh was a little forced…_ "Hey, 'Ferre…" he said hesitantly as the moment faded. "Could you…give us a minute?"

Combeferre sensed it was time for him to leave. _After all, our Marble Man has to confess the newfound crack in his heart._ "Of course," he nodded, exiting the office and shutting the door behind him. The door was barely shut when she spoke.

"Listen, Enjolras…there's something I need to tell you…" Éponine said heavily. She was clearly pained to be saying it, and Enjolras was alarmed for a moment. _What if she doesn't feel the same way as I do? What if I've gotten the wrong impression from her?_

_Calm down, Richard; you're being paranoid._ "Do you want to sit down?" he asked hurriedly, helping her sit across from the desk as he pulled his chair around. "Can I get you anything? Do you need a glass of water?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine…it's just that…I should have told you this a long time ago, but I never worked up the guts to say it…"

Enjolras put a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Éponine…I actually have something to tell you, too…"

They looked at each other, and simultaneously, they spoke.

"I love you, Éponine."

"Enjolras, I'm a prostitute."

**A/N: And, Éponine's secret is out of the bag at last! Let me know what you think!**


	7. Leaving Her

**A/N: *dodges rotting fruit* I'm so sorry this update took so long! I've had two really busy weekends in a row! Quick point of clarification, from reading ****the****reviews - Colette and Cosette are not the same person. One is the secretary at the law firm; the other is...well, you'll find out! This is a long chapter, but I hope you enjoy! R&R!**

Enjolras was struck dumb when he heard her words. He couldn't believe it…his Éponine was a prostitute? _Father was right after all, I suppose. I turned my back on her, and look what happened. _"Oh, what a fucking day…" he groaned under his breath, his hands clenching and unclenching on his knees.

"Before you say anything else, please let me explain myself," she begged, clearly already on the verge of tears. "I wanted to tell you before, but I didn't know how."

"What is there to explain, Éponine?" he said coldly, looking away from her. "I think you've already told me everything I need to know."

She tried not to wince. "No…I haven't."

Now he turned to face her, and she could hardly bear to see the anger, the hurt, the betrayal in his eyes. "What else could you possibly tell me that could be pertinent after that?" he snapped, making her wince. "As I've said, I think you've told me everything I need to know."

"And I've told _you, _I haven't said everything I need to say," she retorted, pausing to take a breath. "I didn't give you my actual last name when we met. It's a pseudonym that I've been using for years…so I couldn't be traced back to my father."

Enjolras was trying not to scream. _First there was everything that Fantine told me, now Éponine's a prostitute…what could possibly make this worse? _"Alright…now seems like an opportune time to tell me," he said measuredly.

She looked away, shamefaced, and barely whispered the last name on Earth that he wanted to hear.

"Thénardier."

He gaped at her in shock. She was the daughter of one of the most notorious thieves of New York, and the one that his father was currently in court prosecuting. "Jesus Christ…you're Thénardier's daughter. Of course," he said to himself, standing up. "Of _course, _if you're going to be the daughter of a criminal, it has to be the one that my father's trying to throw in jail right now!" He ran a hand over his hair, before unexpectedly slamming his fists on the desk. "Goddammit!"

"Enjolras, please…stop yelling," she whispered, curling up in a fetal position in the chair.

"What the hell do you expect me to do?!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger any longer as he paced behind the desk. "My entire perception of my father has been turned on its head in less than half an hour, and now you tell me this? Am I supposed to accept it all without batting an eye? Am I supposed to act like this is all _normal_, Éponine?! Because I can't! I don't even know who I am anymore, and I sure as hell don't know who you are! WHERE DOES IT END, ÉPONINE?!"

By the time Enjolras' tirade ended, she was sobbing, her face buried in her knees. Her entire body shook as she wailed, but he couldn't find it in himself to cross the office to comfort her. Instead, he turned his back and forced himself to ignore her crying. His angry last words hung in the air like a dense fog. If Richard Enjolras, Jr. was like his father in one way, is was that he was not quick to forgive.

After a while, she started to quiet down. When he looked over his shoulder, she was looking back at him with red, puffy eyes. "You asked me where it ends?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "It ends here." He stood still as she left the room, slamming the door behind her. He could still hear her crying as she left the building.

Enjolras groaned quietly to himself as he sat back down behind the desk, holding his head in his hands again. _God…how am I possibly going to tell Father about all of this…? I never saw it ending like this…oh God…_

The door slowly creaked open, and promptly interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Enjolras?" Combeferre almost squeaked, barely peeking around the edge of the door.

"Come in," his best friend answered a little hoarsely, still looking away from the door. "I'm all done screaming."

"Care to explain what just happened?"

He groaned again. "Make yourself comfortable again."

* * *

Éponine ran blindly through the streets, not caring who saw her cry, who she ran into, or even where she was going. She just wanted to get away; she couldn't even stand to think about him. She had always been told, since she was a little girl, that the truth was supposed to set her free…but the anger and hurt in his eyes today when she finally told him the truth had been too much to bear.

She finally found herself outside the general store that housed the Whitehorse as she sank to her knees in tears. He had told her that he loved her, and she had answered him by screwing everything up.

_Now he's gone forever._

Éponine didn't know how long she knelt there on the sidewalk, crying, ignoring the gawking stares of all the passersby. It was cathartic for her to unleash the anguish she already felt from losing him. She ignored the footsteps behind her until she felt Mac wrap his arms around her, rocking her back and forth as she cried. "Éponine, dear…" he murmured. "Tell me what happened?"

"I've lost him, Mac," she sobbed. "He never wants to see me again, and I can never get him back after this…oh God, what have I done?" she sobbed even harder. Her sentences slowly turned into random babbling, until Mac had to take her inside. They sat down in the back room where all the alcohol was stored, and Éponine tried to dry her tears. "He told me he loves me, Mac…and now I've lost him forever."

"Who on earth are you talking about, Éponine?" he asked, wiping his big hands off on his apron. "I want to help, but I can't if I don't know."

She took a shuddering breath before she answered him. "Richard Enjolras. He told me today that he loved me, and…" she couldn't bear to tell Mac her secret too, and she broke down in sobs again.

Mac gaped at her in utter shock. _"Richard?" _he whispered. "I didn't think the man was capable of love…"

"What do you mean?" she sniffled in a small voice.

"For the longest time, he's been unable – and seemingly unwilling – to connect to a woman," Mac explained. "He told me that his law school friends even nicknamed him the 'Marble Man' because of it. I never anticipated the way he'd open up when I introduced him to you. No matter what happens, Éponine, you've changed him for the better."

She sniffled again, drying her tears. "I suppose you're right…I just can't see it anymore. Not after he got so angry…"

Mac hugged her sympathetically again. "Come, have a drink," he said, opening up a bottle of brandy. "There's a spare cot in here; if you don't want to go home, you can sleep here tonight."

"Thank you, Mac," she said, smiling a little.

* * *

Enjolras drove away from the office after saying his goodbyes to Combeferre and Colette, still in disbelief over the events of the day. He knew he had to talk to his father about everything soon, but he was dreading the moment of confrontation. Nonetheless, he drove to his father's apartment, trying to figure out how he could find the journal and swipe it without his father noticing.

He parked on the street and went up to his father's door, knocking firmly three times. "Who is it?" the voice sounded.

"It's me, Father," he answered loudly. "I want to talk to you."

Richard Enjolras, Sr. opened the door, still looking surprised to see his son. "What is it, Richard?" he asked, concerned.

The younger man sighed. "You were right, Father."

"Well of course I was," his father answered pompously; Enjolras thought he saw his chest puff out a little bit. "I always am. What was I right about this time?"

"Éponine," he answered. "She's a prostitute."

His father's eyebrows went straight up. "Come in and we'll talk." He stepped into his father's apartment, unsurprised by how immaculately it was kept. It hardly felt lived in as he shed his coat and dress shoes, sitting down in front of the coffee table. "Now, tell me about this prostitute of yours," his father said snidely as he sat down next to his son.

Enjolras glared at his father for a moment before speaking again. "Don't talk about her like that, Father."

"Oh, one minute you're saying I was right, and now you're defending her again?" his father asked in exasperation. "My God, Richard; make up your damn mind about the woman!"

"She's been a good woman to me!" Enjolras barked. He paused, running a hand through his hair. "I still wish she had been honest with me…" he said irritably, "but I don't want you to say that about her."

"What did I tell you when you were a boy, Richard?" his father said sternly. "When we would drive to my office in the morning? I know you still remember."

Enjolras gritted his teeth. "'They all end up like Fantine Tholomyés,'" he quoted. The words were so much bitterer on his tongue after his meeting with her that day. "No. I will not let Éponine be subject to that fate. She deserves so much better, and I want to be the one to show her that."

His father snorted. "Oh, my son. Don't lose your senses entirely because you're dizzy with a dame. Who turned out to be a prostitute, may I remind you."

"Not because she wanted to be," he said quietly.

The elder Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Tell me exactly what happened."

The younger man sighed, recounting the events of her visit to the office, including everything he had said following. "I was probably harsher to her than I should have been…but I was just so angry…"

"Rightly so," his father answered as snidely as before. "She lied to you, son."

"Not because she wanted to," he said as quietly as before, standing up. "Say, Father," he said casually, "Do you still have the journal you kept as a young man?"

"Why do you ask?" his father snapped.

Enjolras froze for a second. "I just remember that you kept one, and I wanted to see the entry from when I was born." _Whew. Good save, Richard._

"In my room, on the bookshelf," he grunted. "You can take it with you for a few days, if you like. Just be sure to bring it back."

He could barely keep from sighing heavily in relief as he went back and fetched it. The leather bound book was small, with his father's full name etched on the front. He put it in his suit pocket, resolving to go through it later that night. "Have you got a drink anywhere? I'm parched," he said as he went back out to the front.

"Kitchen, secret cabinet. What do you want?"

The two men walked in the direction of the liquor. "Whiskey, if you've got it," Enjolras said.

"A fresh bottle," his father grinned. "Mac couldn't keep everything he got on this last shipment, so he gave it to me."

The younger man couldn't help but grin. "Sounds perfect."

Father and son drank for a few more hours, but the son was careful not to let anything important about Fantine slip into the conversation. _You're her lawyer now. Confidentiality is an issue. _It was so hard for him to look at his father in the same, idolized way that he had as a boy. Knowing the truth…it made him anxious to go through the journal. _Maybe Fantine is right…only one way to find out._

* * *

Enjolras got back to his apartment around 10:30, thankful that he hadn't had too much whiskey with his father. He had some digging to do, and he needed a clear head in order to do it well. He found himself slightly afraid of what he was about to find, but knew it was what had to be done. _I have to find out if Fantine was right._

So he sat down at his kitchen table, opened the journal with a deep breath, and began to read.

_25 July, 1901_

_Maëlys gave birth to our first child today – a large, healthy boy. Richard Heiland Enjolras, Jr. was born at 2:30 in the afternoon. He weighed 8.5 pounds, 6 ounces and measured 20 inches long. She only labored for a few hours, and was never in much pain. The doctors were amazed that he was her fist child, with how quick and smooth the birth was for both of them._

_Is it not, however, the natural affinity of woman to be suited to easy childbirth? With society's expectations to marry and bear sons to carry on the family name – as my Maëlys has now done – evolution will sooner or later cater to that, if it has not already done so. When a woman is able to easily produce a son, she has fulfilled her purpose._

Enjolras nearly gagged at the misogyny he was reading. He'd never known what a bigot his father could be, but he forced himself to keep going.

_So far, baby Richard has been mostly quiet and calm. We are not yet allowed to bring him home from the hospital; the doctors wish to keep him and Maëlys under observation for a few days, to ensure that they both continue to do well._

_As for myself, I am simultaneously overjoyed to be a father, and nervous of the duties I now face. I have another member of the family to consider in every decision I make, and he will probably be another distraction from work, especially while Maëlys will be recovering from the birth. She will, no doubt, need my help with him._

_As I write this, the two of them are in the bed to my right, sound asleep. Maëlys is holding Richard against her chest; I believe he fell asleep nursing. I am also beginning to feel tired, and I shall close my eyes for a few moments now._

A grainy black and white photograph was paper-clipped into the entry, showing a smiling young woman and an almost-smiling man. The woman was sitting up in a bed, holding a baby in her arms. The man had one arm around the woman's shoulders, but it almost looked domineering, rather than affectionate.

_One of the doctors must have taken this for my parents after I was born. I'm that baby._

Enjolras smiled a bit at the image of his mother looking so happy. It was the only time he'd ever seen what her smile looked like. He gently reached out and touched the picture, wishing she were still there, and that his father wasn't so rough around the edges.

_How different things would be now…I miss you, Mother._

He allowed himself a few moments of nostalgia, skimming the words on the page back over a few times, before he flipped through several pages to another, much shorter entry.

_18 September, 1903_

_I have just made possibly the worst mistake of my adult life thus far. I had too much to drink last night, and as a result, I must have gone to bed with Fantine Leblanc last night, because I woke up in her hovel this morning. She sleeps in the bed as I quickly write this; I must get home as soon as I can._

_Maëlys will be distraught that I never made it back last night, and I don't know how I will have to explain myself to her. Oh God, what have I done to myself? To my marriage? To my two-year-old son? He's just learning to talk now, and my wife has been stricken with some kind of sadness for the last two years since his birth. The doctors can't figure out what it is. Every time I look at them now, I will only be filled with guilt for this wicked sin I have committed._

Enjolras was very nearly ill. So far, she'd been correct, right down to the exact date that they'd slept together. Even though his father's entry seemed incredibly upset and contrite, the facts hadn't changed.

He turned a few more pages and kept reading, his heart racing wildly.

_26 November, 1903_

_I saw Fantine again today, when I was in town while Maëlys was at home with the baby. I did not go back into her bed, but she told me that she is with child. She does not know if the baby is mine, or that of her other lover, Felix Tholomyés. I pray to God that it is not so, and that my conscience can stay as clear as possible. If I have a child by another woman and it becomes public, the scandal would be too much for my budding law firm to bear. I have everything to lose now._

_Maëlys went back to her doctors today, and her melancholia is only getting worse. I keep trying to tell her that she has no reason to be sad – I provide for the both of us, and for our son, who is as happy and healthy as ever, and incredibly attached to his mother. Every time I turn my back, I hear her crying when she thinks I'm out of earshot. I don't know what's come over her, and I don't know how to make it better._

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep breathing. He still had no definite proof that he had a half-sibling from Fantine, but so far, everything seemed to be lining up with what she'd told him in the office. He re-read the entry several times, hoping the words in front of his eyes would change, but there they stayed. _I need some proof._

He turned frantically to the next two entries – several months later, and both were only one short paragraph.

_27 June, 1904_

_Fantine had her child today – a little girl, whom she named Euphraise. She has informed me that we are to call her "Cosette" around anyone else, so others will not know her parentage. I still do not know if she is Felix Tholomyés' child, or mine, but I hope to soon find out._

_28 June, 1904_

_Maëlys' melancholia continues to worsen. She cries all the time now, even in front of Richard. He doesn't know why his mother is so sad, and he tries in his simple ways to make her feel better. It breaks my heart to see this brokenness in my family, that I did nothing to prevent. I can only pray that Fantine's child is not mine, and that Maëlys never knows of my affair._

The next entry was not until the worst day of his life. The page was still crusted with tearstains and spots where the ink had run.

_13 July, 1905_

_My Maëlys is dead. God help me, my wife is dead. I came home from the firm this afternoon, and she was dead on the bathroom floor. Richard was, thank the heavens, still asleep. When I arrived home, there were pill bottles scattered everywhere, and the medicine cabinet was hanging open, I do not know what drove her to this, but I can only assume that the melancholia got the better of her. I am alone now, with a son to raise and a law firm to manage. I don't know how to do this on my own. I loved my Maëlys, and maybe I never said it enough._

_I don't know how long I knelt there with her, holding her and crying, begging her to come back. What am I to do without her? What am I to do with my son, and the little girl that may or may not be mine? How can I support all of them? I can only conclude that Fantine Leblanc seduced me, and I will not support her, even if the child I s mine. I do not care anymore._

* * *

_Good God…she was right._

He let out a shaking breath. Now all he needed was to see the girl.

**A/N: So, it looks like Enjolras may or may not have a half sibling; we'll know soon! Please review, and thanks for reading!**


	8. Seeing Her

**A/N: Hello again, my dears! Thank you for bearing with me as I grind this story out little by little. It's finals week, so I haven't been able to write a ton, but thank you for being patient with me, and for all of your feedback on the last chapter! I absolutely love hearing from you. Enjoy this one!**

Enjolras barely slept that night. All he could think of was his father, his mother, Fantine, Cosette, the girl who may or may not be his half-sister…everything he'd ever known had been turned upside down, and only in the space of one day.

As he slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep, he realized that Éponine hadn't left his mind either…

_He was reliving the afternoon in the office again, pacing the floor and screaming in rage at her. He could hear her sobbing as clear as day, washing around him, surrounding him…_terrifying_ him. He didn't know what it was that scared him, but all he wanted was out. When she looked up at him again, the betrayal in her eyes was all the clearer, and it was a knife to his heart. Why had he done nothing for her? Why had he let her cry?_

Because she lied to me, _the voice in his head insisted. _Why should I listen to anything she has to say? She used me!

_As if the Éponine in his dreams could hear his thoughts, the terror and betrayal in her eyes only grew. "You asked me where it ends? It ends here. I wish I had never met you, Richard Enjolras."_

Enjolras started awake, breathing heavily and holding stock still in bed. It took him a moment to realize that he had the sheets in a death grip, and he gradually loosened his fists, trying to slow down his pounding heart. He turned his head enough to see the large clock against the next wall, which read 3:05 a.m.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and sighing heavily. Why had the dream bothered him so much? Why did he so badly want her to be part of his life, despite everything she'd told him? He sighed again in frustration, rubbing his temples.

_I just can't get her out of my head…_

* * *

_She was back in the office, listening to him scream in rage after she'd told him her secret, which was when everything was supposed to be clear between them. No more deception, no more lying by omission, she'd thought. But everything had gone all wrong, and now here she was, cowering in fear and listening to his yelling._

_When it finally ended, she was afraid to look up from her fetal position. But she did, only to see his eyes filled with hatred. She couldn't bear to see that look on his face. But when she turned around, her father and Montparnasse were standing in the doorway._

_"__Hello, sweetie," Montparnasse purred in a voice like poisonous honey, before he and her father each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her out of the office, screaming._

Éponine shot bolt upright in her bed from the nightmare, panting and drenched in a cold sweat. She swallowed hard as she slowly came to her senses, realizing that she was only in her apartment, in her bed.

_Alone. Like you always are, 'Ponine._

As she slowly lay back down, her slender fingers involuntarily stretched out to the other side of the bed, as if to reach out for another person there. She sighed to herself, only a little resentful when they tightened around empty sheets.

And for some inexplicable reason, the only man she wanted to see there was Richard Enjolras…

After they'd kissed, she'd thought – she'd _known_ – that there were mutual feelings there. The way he'd looked into her eyes before she leaned in for it…Éponine wasn't too experienced when it came to love, but her gut told her that Richard Enjolras had felt something that night, even if neither of them knew what it was. She wished they could go back to the time they spent together before everything had gone wrong.

She could picture him there when she closed her eyes – his arm was closely wrapped around her waist as she curled into his warm chest, her head resting over his heart. She'd listen to the constant bass rhythm that kept him alive, her breathing aligning with it as she slowly drifted off…

* * *

Enjolras woke up around 7:00 a.m. the next morning, weary and sore. With a hint of dread, he realized that it was Saturday. Fantine would be coming to his apartment today, hopefully with her daughter – his possible half-sister – in tow. He got out of bed with a heavy sigh and got ready for the day, even putting on a suit and tie. After all, this was a meeting with a client; he had to dress the part.

He was drinking his coffee and reading the paper – there was an article about Thénardier's upcoming trial, and he tried not to think of Éponine – when he heard the timid knock at the door. Glad for the distraction, he put down his coffee and went to the door, where two hooded women met him.

"Mr. Enjolras," a familiar voice murmured, looking down.

"I told you to call me Richard, Fantine," he said quietly, ushering them in as he shut the door behind them. "I assume this is your daughter?"

Fantine nodded as she cast off her hood, but the girl – Euphraise – left hers on. "This is my daughter, Euphraise or Cosette."

"Ms. Tholomyés," Enjolras murmured, inclining his head to her.

"Take off your hood, my dear," Fantine murmured to her. Two slender hands reached up to push it down, and Enjolras couldn't help but gasp when he saw her face.

If his father had been a twenty-something-year-old woman, it would be the one standing in front of him. Her big blue eyes were the exact same shade as his, and she had long blonde hair that tumbled in curls around her shoulders. She was slim; the same wiry build as her mother, but the face of his father –_ our father, _he realized.

"My God…" he whispered, looking at her for a moment longer before his gaze shifted to Fantine. "So it's true."

The brunette woman nodded as she sat down on the sofa. "I assume you read your father's journal?"

"It kept me from sleeping last night," he replied, grim and unsmiling. "I practically idolized him as a child…it's hard for me to reconcile the way I've always seen him with the way he truly is." He sighed heavily. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Obviously I'll help you; I just don't know if we can pull it off."

"Hopefully, a jury would have the same reaction you just did," Fantine remarked dryly.

Enjolras snorted. "I should hope so." He turned to Cosette. "You are the spitting image of our father," he said, the words feeling strange on his tongue. "How do you feel about appearing in court?" The girl looked surprised that he had addressed her, and clearly didn't know what to say. She glanced at her mother, who nodded at her to speak.

"What would I have to do?" she asked in a small voice.

Enjolras was surprised at how timid she sounded, but proceeded to answer her in what he hoped wasn't an overly lawyer-esque tone. "Since your mother wants to prosecute Father for never sending child support for you, your presence in court would be confirmation to the jury that you are also his child, and would be, in essence, the clincher we'd need to prove him guilty," he explained. "If the resemblance doesn't convince a jury, then the journal entries I read last night certainly will." He noticed as he spoke that Fantine was listening intently as she pulled her tattered shawl tighter around her shoulders. There was a steely gleam in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before, like she was determined to get what she wanted this time. "He incriminated himself 28 years ago, without even trying."

"So all I need to do is be there?" Cosette asked quietly.

"If all goes the way I plan, you'll need to come forward to the front of the courtroom and stand next to him, facing the judge and the jury when I ask it of you," Enjolras said. "Past that, I'll be showing the jury the entries I read from Father's journal and questioning him about them. We should have him snared in the cross-examination."

"And what if they try to blame me for everything?" Fantine asked quietly. "For 'seducing' him?"

Enjolras pondered for a moment before answering. It was a potential snag, and not one he'd thought of before now. "He mentions in one journal entry that he doesn't remember how he got to you," Enjolras said slowly. "Therefore, he can't definitely claim you seduced him if he has no memory except waking up with you. If you're willing, you could always go on the stand and testify to your innocence," he added.

"I'm a woman," she remarked shrewdly. "Would they listen to me?"

"If I call you to the stand, they'll have no choice but to listen," Enjolras said firmly. "The jury has to listen to whomever the lawyers call up, regardless of sex."

She smiled grimly. "Thank you, Richard."

"You're welcome, Fantine," he said with a small nod. "I think we've accomplished a lot today. I'll let you know next time I'm filling in at my father's office, and you can come see me."

* * *

Éponine woke up in the back room of the Whitehorse feeling particularly well-rested. She sat up slightly in the small bed, curling her knees up to her chest and thinking about the nightmare she'd had last night. As she sat there by herself, Éponine began to wonder if she would ever see Enjolras again. The optimistic part of her prayed she would, but she knew it was incredibly unlikely. _How am I supposed to fix _that_ fight? I can't take care of all that anger on my own._

She finally made herself get up, rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes, and walked towards the main room of the speakeasy, her bare feet padding softly across the hard concrete floor. She shivered a little, wishing she had her robe to put on.

But when she opened the door, she couldn't have anticipated what awaited her. There were 3 police officers in the speakeasy, and a clearly terrified Mac was being put in handcuffs. "Mac!" She cried.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" one of the officers said menacingly. "Running two side businesses at once, Mac? I must say, I'm impressed."

Mac was clearly flabbergasted at the accusation. "W-what? No! She's not – I'm not – "

"I'm not a prostitute!" Éponine nearly shrieked. She felt a twinge of guilt for the bitter lie on her tongue, mostly because it made her think of the conversation with Enjolras yesterday that had spawned her nightmare. "And he's not a pimp!"

The officer's laugh was so…_evil_ that it almost made Éponine sick. "All evidence to the contrary, my dear," he said to her. "Why else would you be waking up in the back of his speakeasy, hmm?"

"Because he's my boss, and I couldn't go home last night!" she said, trying not to cry. When she realized what she said, her hand flew to her mouth. _Shit!_ _What's going to happen now? They know I work at a speakeasy, and they think I'm being pimped out by Mac…they're going to arrest us both. Will either of us even get a trial?_

One of the cops that had handcuffed Mac now spoke up, eyeing her. "Your boss, eh?" He nodded to the third officer, who was lounging on the bar. "We'll take her in, too."

Éponine shrank back behind the door in fear as the officer approached her with handcuffs; Mac could only look on, powerless to stop it. "Wait – please!" she cried as he roughly grabbed her shoulder, slapping the first cuff onto her wrist before he paused, looking closely at her face.

"You…" he murmured.

That was all it took for Éponine to recognize him – she remembered that her father had forced her to seduce him a few weeks ago, just before she started working at the Whitehorse. "You…!" she echoed in a quiet whisper of mortal fear.

"You two know each other?" one of the other officers asked, sounding both surprised and impatient.

"A whore like this one? I wouldn't be caught dead with someone like her," he spat coldly as he finished cuffing her.

His superior regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before he relaxed. "You better not," he said, still eyeing the two of them. "Now come on, let's get these two downtown."

* * *

Enjolras spent the rest of his day brooding on Fantine and Cosette, and how he was supposed to prosecute his father. It was going to be a difficult case, considering his lack of solid evidence and experience in the courtroom. He'd watched most of his father's open-courtroom cases since he was a child; ever since Mother died, he couldn't have stayed home on his own. The worst thing about having to prosecute a lawyer was that he would know every trick in the book. Enjolras was trying to prove the guilt of a man who'd taught him everything he knew. His father would be able to predict his every move.

After an uneasy sleep, he got up at 6:00 am on Sunday morning to get ready for Mass with his father at St. Peter's. The two men went faithfully every week, and had for as long as the younger Enjolras could remember.

As he put on his suit and tie, a dream from the previous night flashed briefly through his mind…

_He stood in front of the mirror, straightening his tie and smoothing down his shirt for church. Two hands appeared on his shoulders, slender fingers curling onto his chest as his wife's grinning face popped into the glass. "Hello, you," Éponine grinned as he turned around to face her. She was wearing a simple blue dress that cinched at the waist and fell to her mid-calves with sensible white shoes. Her long hair was tied back loosely._

_"__Mmh, hello," he smiled, kissing her lips softly. His hand went to rest on her waist as hers went to his chest. "Ready to go?"_

_"__Almost," she said. Enjolras followed his wife into the nursery across the hall from their room, where their infant son lay sound asleep in his crib. Henry Richard Enjolras yawned deeply, waving his tiny fists in his sleep as his mother picked him up and cradled him in her arms, smiling at her husband. His heart filled with pride as he looked at his wife and son. He kissed the baby boy's forehead and smiled at Éponine. "Alright, let's go."_

He came back to reality stock still, his hands still on his tie. He shook his head briefly to clear it as he finished cinching it up. _It's never going to happen, Richard. That baby boy is never going to be real._

For the whole drive to the church, Enjolras thought about Éponine, and what she'd done to him. He'd noticed that he'd been angrier ever since she left. He didn't know if he was angry with himself or with her, but his outlook on the world seemed to be grayer. That woman had done something to him, and the fact that he didn't know what it was vexed him to no end.

The congregation was milling around and chatting outside the church when Enjolras rolled into the parking lot 15 minutes before the start of the service. He spotted his father standing outside the door, engaged in conversation with the new priest, a young man who was just out of school. He caught his father's attention from the door of his car and walked over.

"Ah good, you made it," his father said as he arrived.

"Of course I made it, Father. Why would I miss?" Enjolras answered, trying not to be angry at his father's pretentious attitude. And that was another thing – his temper had gotten significantly shorter since the horrible confrontation with Éponine. It was as though he couldn't tolerate questions, or anything past his normal routine. His father's lip curled, but he didn't answer; instead turning his back to go into the church.

"Mr. Enjolras? Are you well?" The priest asked him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Enjolras hadn't noticed his angry, labored breathing until the man spoke to him. "I'm fine," he said, attempting to calm down. "Just feeling…burdened," he said haltingly. It wasn't a lie, he decided; there was quite a bit on his mind.

"Come in, and lay your burdens down at the feet of God," the man smiled, leading him into the church. Enjolras couldn't lie; he felt a little better as he walked in alongside the priest and sat next to his father in one of the pews close to the front of the church.

However, as soon as the Mass started again, he felt only as though he were going through the motions – making the sign of the cross, standing and sitting as was appropriate, reciting the prayers from memory the way he had since he was a small child. The priest's message that day was even on the importance of the family unit, and all Enjolras could think of was his dream about Éponine. It had all felt so real – her hands on his shoulders, her smile, her laugh, her kiss…

_Stop it, Richard, _he scolded himself. _You can't do this to yourself for the rest of your life. She's never going to be yours, and you have to let it go. Let _her_ go. It's never going to happen._

Finally, the Mass ended. As they were putting on their coats to leave, his father spoke for the first time since before the service.

"I want you to take on a case for me."

Enjolras was slightly surprised; his father had never actually wanted him to work in the courtroom, only observe. "Why?" he asked, unable to keep a slight note of suspicion out of his voice.

"Now that you're out of law school, I want to see how much you can handle," he said as they filed out with the rest of the crowd. "I want to know I'll be leaving my firm in good hands when I decide to retire."

He considered it for a moment. Was it really wise to take on a case from the man he would soon be attempting to prosecute? Then again, was it really wise to turn down his father? "Alright, what is it?" he asked.

"A few of my cop friends busted a speakeasy the other day," he said. "They caught the owner and his bartender, who may or may not have been selling herself out of his back room. I want you to take on prosecuting the woman for prostitution."

Enjolras bristled. He knew exactly what his father was trying to do, and he refused to help him. "I'm not going to throw Éponine in jail, Father. I don't care what you say."

"How do you know it's her?" his father remarked snidely.

"Why else would you want me to take on the case?" he shot back as they stepped out of the church. "You want me to be responsible for finishing her ruin. I can't do that to her, as angry as I am."

"Don't tell me you still care about her," his father snorted derisively as they slipped through the thinning crowd. "She's a whore who was only out for your wallet. Trust me, son. I've seen too many cases of men falling from grace because they were blind to it. I don't want to see the same happen to you."

Enjolras bit his tongue, resisting the urge to make a snide remark that would reveal too much. "I don't care about her anymore," he lied through gritted teeth. "But despite that fact, I am a gentleman, and I will not sour my own reputation by ruining hers."

"You'll ruin your reputation as a prosecutor before you even take over the firm," the older man said angrily. "What good is a man as a lawyer if he can't impartially judge the ones he loves?"

He glared at his father once they reached the car. "We'll talk about this after you close the Thénardier trial," he said. "Not before."

"Done."

* * *

Éponine sat on the cold floor of her jail cell, her knees curled up to her chest, and trying not to cry. She couldn't help but be terrified at the prospects of what could happen. She knew she would likely be going on trial for distribution of alcohol and alleged prostitution. What would happen when she lost both cases?

The rattling of keys in the lock interrupted her train of thought. She looked up, wide-eyed, as the officer who cuffed her earlier that day walked into her tiny cell. He grinned smugly when he saw how afraid she was, and she scooted back against the wall as he closed the door and sauntered over to her. She curled into a fetal position again, whimpering with fear, when she felt two fingers under her chin.

"Look at me."

It was a command, not a request. Hesitantly, she made eye contact with him. The next thing she heard was a sharp slapping sound before her cheek caught fire. "Now listen to me, you little slut," he growled, jerking her back around to face him. "I only lied that I didn't remember you to cover my own ass, not yours. I have a wife and a family, and a reputation to protect; you have nothing. You _are _nothing. Breathe a word of anything involving me in court, I'll have your head," he hissed, before pushing her back into the wall. "Understood?"

She nodded fearfully, now weeping freely. "I won't say anything, I swear!" she sobbed.

"You damn well better not," he growled, leaving the cell. Éponine was alone again, and more frightened than ever. She climbed on the thin, rock-hard mattress and pulled up the scratchy blanket, trying to get some sleep, but when she closed her eyes, all she saw was him…

_It was their wedding day, and she was the most beautiful she'd ever been. Never had Éponine smiled so much in one day. As she walked up the aisle, she could tell that he couldn't believe his eyes, and looking at him, she was the happiest she'd ever been._

_She finally reached the front of the church, handing her bouquet over to her sister, the maid of honor. Enjolras took her hands in his as she turned to face him, both of them grinning. "You look stunning," he mouthed to her as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Éponine couldn't help but blush._

_Then he was kissing her, and everything was perfect._

When she woke up, she was already sobbing.

**A/N: So what happens now? Spoilers! Please review. :)**


	9. Saving Her

**A/N: Hi! I'm finally home for summer, and have some time to write!****  
**

**For my regulars, a quick update on my side projects - the Les Mis/Doctor Who crossover I'll be writing with Anne-Lilian has not been called off; we just haven't had any time to talk about it! Just be patient with us, and we'll try to have it out in the (hopefully!) not-so-distant future. I'm also cooking up an Enjonine high school AU, in addition to a Frozen fic (don't hate me, but I'm shipping Hans/Elsa in a world where Hans is NOT a butthead). I'll also work on having perhaps a teaser for that up soon!**

**Anyway, this chapter's going to get interesting! You know the drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!**

Thénardier walked into the courtroom behind his lawyer, his hands chained but his legs free. He kept his head bowed, partly to appear contrite, and partly to hide his angry glare from the judge and jury. The prosecutor and his son were already standing on their side of the courtroom, and the open seats for the public were starting to fill up. He noticed Éponine sitting towards the back, also handcuffed and with a police officer standing over her shoulder. _What'd they get 'er for? _He wondered. He forced himself to ignore his daughter as he faced the judge's bench.

"Auguste Thénardier," the judge began, reading aloud from a piece of paper, "you are here on two counts of theft, and four counts of neglect of minors. How do you plead?"

"I ain't guilty, yer Hona," he said resentfully, raising his eyes to look at the judge when he spoke. "I ain't a thief, an' I'm good ta me kids."

"We'll see what the witnesses have to say," the judge answered. "Mr. Enjolras – " he hesitated when he saw both father and son there, before adding, "either of you…you may begin."

"Your Honor, the prosecution calls Éponine Thénardier to the stand," the father said firmly before the son could say anything.

"Do we?" he asked quietly out of the corner of his mouth. His father never said anything about the witnesses they'd be bringing in.

"We do," the elder Enjolras hissed, ending the conversation. "And you'll be questioning her."

The younger man turned his head and watched the terrified girl - who was no longer handcuffed - walk up to the front of the courtroom. Mixed emotions raced through him as the juryman walked over to her, Bible in hand. He could see her left hand trembling as it rested on the book, her right raised into the air.

"Éponine Thénardier, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asked.

"I do," she said shakily.

"Sit down, please."

As the juryman sat back down, she took the stand, and Enjolras walked out from behind the bench, his jaw set. He wasn't looking forward to this; however, he put his emotions aside as he looked at her and spoke.

"Ms. Thénardier, can you describe to the jury the quality of living you experienced in your childhood?" he asked as formally as he could. No one else in the room except his father knew that there was history between them, and he intended to keep it hushed until everything was over. After that…he didn't even know what he wanted to do.

_Stop it, Richard. No time to think about that now._

She swallowed hard before answering. "Before or after the death of my mother, Mr. Enjolras?" she asked, her voice still shaking.

"Did it change after your mother's death?"

She nodded. "Drastically."

He gestured for her to continue. "Please, tell us how."

Éponine folded her hands together in her lap, looking down for a moment as she gathered her answer. "Well…before Mama died, we had fresh food on the table every day, clean clothes to wear, and the house and inn were both always well-kept. My siblings and I were always happy."

"Can you please clarify for the jury how many siblings you have?"

"I have one sister and three brothers, sir; all younger than me. The last two boys are twins, orphans that were left on the inn's doorstep as newborns."

Enjolras nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Thénardier. Now, how did things change after your mother's passing?"

She bit her lip, holding back tears. This was the hard part. If she told the truth, her father would give her the beating of her life later…but if she lied under oath, she'd be in even more trouble with the law than she already was…what was the lesser of two evils? Did she protect her family, or did she protect herself?

"Ms. Thénardier, we need an answer," the judge said impatiently.

Enjolras paused, looking back and forth between the judge and a clearly very shaken Éponine. Without looking at his father or the judge, he approached the stand; she had to try not to recoil until he took a knee in front of her. "Éponine, you have nothing to be afraid of in these four walls," he said gently; she was surprised at his sudden familiarity with her when he had been so official just moments ago. "Trust me. You're safe here; you can tell us the truth." He got back up and reassumed his previous position as Éponine cleared her throat to speak.

"After Mama died…Papa's grief went out of control," she said. "It…took him over. It took him away from the five of us. H-he...started spending all of his money on liquor…that's how the inn went under, and we had to take to the streets," she explained. "After Prohibition started…" she paused again.

"Keep going, Ms. Thénardier," Enjolras said gently.

She nodded. Something about the sudden gentleness of his voice made her want to keep talking. "After Prohibition started…that was when he first turned to theft. It was only little things first. He enlisted Azelma – my sister – and I to help him. We were both still small; our fingers were still nimble. We could swipe small purses unnoticed off of anyone by the time we were 10 years old."

"She's lyin'!" Thénardier shouted, standing up. Enjolras noticed Éponine flinch on the stand. "I didn' do none o' tha'!"

"Mr. Thénardier, let your daughter finish the rest of her testimony uninterrupted," the judge said firmly. "Go on, Ms. Thénardier."

"Once Gavroche, the first of my brothers, got older, Papa trained him to do the same," she continued. "He made us go out into town every day and pick as many pockets as we could. Even as we got older, the rich wouldn't take note of us the way they would a grown man. We'd get beaten if we didn't come home with enough money each day; we'd stay out until dark or after to get enough to feed all of us. Gav and the twins took up that work once Azelma and I were too tall. But when she and I were...developed...he - "

"Ye shut yer damn mouth, ya hussy!" her father shouted again; this time she did wince. "I'll kill ya!"

"Mr. Thénardier!" the judge barked, standing up.

At that moment, the doors to the courtroom burst open, and gunfire rang loudly through the large, open space. Immediately, the courtroom was thrown into chaos – everyone ducked for cover or ran to an exit, women screamed, and the judge scrambled to get down from the bench and through the door behind him. Enjolras immediately dropped to his knees before searching for Éponine. He could see her kneeling next to the stand, sobbing in terror. He wondered for a moment if she'd gotten a glimpse of the gunman, but pushed his wondering aside. "Éponine!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, making his way to her as quickly as he could.

"It's Montparnasse!" she screamed over the bedlam. "He's the one with the gun! My father's gang is here to bust him out of court!"

His stomach dropped. _Great. There are more of them. _"Did they know you'd be testifying today?" he shouted as more shots were fired.

"No!"

A court reporter dashed past them, and Enjolras made sure to put himself between Éponine and the pounding herd of feet rushing by. "Come on, we've got to get you out of here," he said, pulling her to her feet. He turned in time just to see the mad gunman – Montparnasse, Éponine had said was his name – heading their way. Enjolras felt sick when he saw that two more men carrying clubs flanked him. Éponine recognized them as Brujon and Babet, and she nearly fainted from fear.

"Now, Éponine!" Enjolras shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door behind the judge's bench. "Get out of here while you still can! Go, I'll follow you!"

"You backstabbing little bitch!" the first man shouted. Éponine stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Montparnasse. She seemed to be frozen, rooted to the spot in her fear. Enjolras' eyes darted back and forth between the two of them like he was watching a high-speed tennis match, his heart pounding.

"Give that stool pigeon the kiss off, 'Parnasse," the larger of the cronies - Brujon - growled behind the gunman.

Montparnasse pointed the gun straight at Éponine.

He fired.

"NO!" Enjolras yelled.

He was just too late to take the bullet for her. It grazed his arm before going past him to hit Éponine squarely in the shoulder. She screamed in pain, almost doubling over and clutching her wound. Without thinking, he scooped her up into his arms and kicked open the door, taking just enough time to slam it behind them. He took off running down the long, straight hall, before kicking open the other door to the judge's chambers.

"Oh…so that's where the door behind the bench goes," he muttered.

"What the hell is going on here?!" the judge shouted.

"Your Honor, she's been shot," Enjolras said immediately, carefully setting Éponine down to where she could lean on the desk. "We need to call an ambulance immediately."

The judge's eyes widened at the turn of events. Without another word, he grabbed the phone on his desk and started dialing. Enjolras turned back to Éponine. "Now, let me see it," he said gently.

She didn't realize that she still had a death grip on her own shoulder until her hand slowly peeled away bright red. There was blood all over her shoulder, upper chest, and side, some of her long hair sticking to the wound by consequence. Enjolras brushed it aside as carefully as he could, his fingers skimming gently over her angry lesion for any hint of metal. He prayed to God that the bullet wasn't already too deep to be removed. She winced a little at his touch, but didn't shy away.

"It hurts, Enjolras…" she whimpered softly. "It hurts so much…"

Enjolras almost felt like someone was stabbing him when he heard her whispering in so much pain. On impulse, he reached up and yanked off his tie, undoing the knots as quickly as possible. "I know, Éponine," he whispered, bandaging her injury as best he could. "I know. It's going to be alright; trust me."_  
_

"The ambulance should be here any minute," the judge said as he hung up the phone as Enjolras wound his tie around her shoulder. "Can we move her down to the main lobby?"

Enjolras looked at her as he carefully finished binding it up. "Do you want to risk going down there?"

"Montparnasse will likely be able to follow you here if you don't," she said firmly. "We'd be better off going."

He nodded. "Alright then, come on."

The two men carefully shielded Éponine as they made their way to the lobby as quickly as possible. She was able to keep up with them just fine, but keeping her out of pain proved to be an issue. If her arm moved the wrong way, she doubled over with pain. "Come on, Éponine," he said softly. "We're almost there."

They arrived at the lobby just as the ambulance did, much to Enjolras' relief. With a nod of thanks to the judge, who hurried off to deal with everything else going on inside, Enjolras scooped Éponine into his arms, handing her off to the nurse on board. "She's been shot in the shoulder," he said. "I don't know how deep the bullet is."

"We'll take care of her, thank you," the woman said earnestly, gently setting Éponine down on the tiny stretcher.

"W-wait – are you leaving, Enjolras?" she asked shakily. He noticed her hair was sticking to her face with sweat, and she looked genuinely upset at the thought that she would have to endure the ride to the hospital without him. She looked to the nurse and asked, "Can he come with us?"

"Is he family?"

Just as Enjolras was about to deny it, Éponine beat him to the draw. "He's my fiancé."

"Then of course he can," she said gently, closing the doors.

Somehow, Enjolras managed to remain calm as he took a seat next to Éponine on the ambulance. Inside, his head was exploding. Why had she claimed that he was her fiancé? What had happened to the angry Éponine that had told him in the office, _"It ends here"?_ What had changed to make her want him to stay?

_She got shot, you idiot. And you helped her. _That's _what changed._

"Enjolras, you're bleeding," she said quietly, pointing to his arm. He looked down, following her gaze, and noticed a thin cut on his upper arm, in addition to the rest of the blood staining his suit. The nurse had heard, and quickly patched him up. He looked himself over as the ambulance drove to the hospital - there was blood on his hands, on his arms, on his shirt...Éponine's blood. He wanted to throttle Montparnasse himself for shooting her, but forced himself to calm down. Now was not the time.

"You're going to be okay, 'Ponine," he murmured quietly, stroking her wet hair back from her forehead. As calm as he acted, he was terrified. What if her injury got infected and she died? He didn't want do think about what he'd do if her life ended.

_Then stop thinking like that, _he told himself.

* * *

What happened after their arrival at the hospital would become a blur in Enjolras' memory. He remembered helping the nurses get Éponine through the doors, signing in at a desk, and endless hours of waiting. Sometimes he paced the floor, other times he prayed, still others he read from the small copy of Søren Kierkegaard's _Fear and Trembling_ that he kept in the pocket of his suit jacket. _An appropriate title for this scenario, _he thought dryly to himself. He flipped a few pages, opening up to the middle of the Problemata section.

_Faith is therefore no aesthetic emotion, but something far higher, exactly because it presupposes resignation; it is not the immediate inclination of the heart but the paradox of existence. Thus that a young girl in the face of all difficulties rests assured that her desire will be fulfilled in no way means that her certainty is that of faith, even if she has been brought up by Christian parents and perhaps gone for a whole year to the pastor. She is convinced in all her childlike simplicity and innocence. This assurance too ennobles her nature and gives her a preternatural dimension, so that like a worker of wonders she can charm the finite powers of existence and make even stones weep, while on the other hand in her distraction she can just as well run to Herod as to Pilate and move the whole world with her pleas. Her conviction is ever so lovable, and one can learn much from her, but one thing one does not learn from her, how to make movements. Her certainty does not dare look the impossibility in the eye in the pain of resignation._

He sighed to himself. He should have known that existential philosophy was not the best place to look for comfort in times of trial. He leafed through the rest of the small volume, hardly reading the words on the page, trying not to think about her, to no avail. More than anything, his brain burned to know why Montparnasse was so desperate to keep Éponine silent. Obviously, there were criminal charges he wanted to avoid, but what other reason could he have? He must have had a reason to aim straight for her...

Or...what if it had nothing at all to do with her father?

"Mr. Enjolras?" a woman's voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

He looked up at a nurse as he put his book away, walking quickly to her. "Yes? How's Éponine?"

"She's stable and doing fine," the nurse said calmly. "The doctor was able to remove the bullet and thoroughly clean the wound. He expects that she'll fully recover, and quickly."

He was visibly relieved. "Thank God. Can I see her?"

"That was her request also, actually," the nurse chuckled. "Follow me; I'll take you to her."

Enjolras followed the nurse up a few flights of stairs and through several different wards before they finally got to Éponine. She was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling and drumming her fingers almost boredly on the thin sheets. He noticed that her shoulder was very tightly bound, and the cloth was only slightly red. She smiled when she saw Enjolras come in through the door, and he couldn't help but smile as he crossed the room towards her. "How are you feeling?" he murmured gently, sitting next to her bed and taking her hand. He hadn't forgotten to play the part of fiancé.

"Fine," she said with a nod. "My shoulder's pretty numb, but at least it doesn't hurt anymore."

He smiled a little. "I'm glad." He turned to the nurse. "How much longer will she need to stay here?"

"Only a couple of days, to ensure that the wound doesn't get infected," the nurse said. "The doctors sterilized it as soon as we brought her in, but they don't want to take any risks."

Enjolras nodded in understanding. "Fantastic. I'm glad to hear it."

After the nurse left the room, Éponine spoke.

"You tried to take 'Parnasse's bullet for me in the courtroom."

Enjolras sighed quietly. "Yes."

"But…why?"

He groaned to himself and rubbed his eyes; he'd been hoping to avoid this discussion for at least a little while longer. "It's…very difficult to explain, Éponine."

"What's so difficult about it?" she snapped. He was surprised at her sudden feistiness, even though he knew he should have seen it coming. "You either care about me, or you don't, and I'm not going to continue this ruse if you don't care. So which is it?"

They glared at each other for a moment, neither one knowing what to say. Enjolras didn't know if he wanted to kiss her because she was alive, or kick her because she was so damn stubborn. "I don't know," he said through clenched teeth. "You're not the only enigma in my life right now, Éponine. There's a lot that I still have to figure out." Éponine paused before she answered him.

"Then let me help you," she whispered.

He clenched his jaw. "Why?" he half-growled.

"Because I want to," she said stubbornly, sitting up in bed. "And because…I like to think you'd do the same for me. Or that you would have; I don't blame you if you don't after our last…discussion," she said gingerly, trailing off awkwardly when she finished.

Enjolras sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Éponine…" he sighed heavily. "I still don't know how I feel, and I'm not ready to discuss it. Okay?"

Her face fell, and she looked away, and he was somewhat upset that he had hurt her. "Alright," she murmured. "I won't push you."

"Thank you."

* * *

Despite his better judgment, Enjolras spent the night in a chair next to Éponine's hospital bed, his head tilted back and his hands folded over his stomach, still in his bloody suit. Éponine fell asleep not long after their talk, and Enjolras debated for a while on whether or not to stay. As soon as he decided to settle in for the night, he heard the door creaking open. He sat up, expecting a nurse, but when he made eye contact with the young woman that came through the door, he knew she was not.

She looked to be a little younger than Éponine, and she wore an old dress that looked like it needed a cleaning. Enjolras noticed immediately how thin she was; she was almost a sack of skin and bones. Her long, curly hair came down around her shoulders, and she was wringing her thin hands as she slowly crossed the room to them.

"You must be the lawyer she talked about," the girl murmured quietly.

Enjolras frowned. "Pardon?"

"Oh, forgive me; I've forgotten my manners. I'm Azelma. Éponine's sister," she said. "She talked about you when we last saw each other a few days ago."

He suddenly felt guilty for rejecting Éponine all over again, and had to avoid her gaze. "So I take it you're angry with me, too?" he asked quietly.

The girl – Azelma – studied him briefly. For that brief moment she looked exactly like Éponine, and he would have mistaken her if the latter hadn't been in the hospital bed between them. "No," she answered quietly.

Enjolras looked back up at her, more than a little surprised. "No?"

"No," she repeated simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm just worried about my sister." Azelma paused. "When I heard there was a shooting at the courthouse today…I was mostly frightened because I knew who did it. I didn't know Éponine would be testifying. When 'Parnasse came back home and was complaining that he'd hit her but didn't kill her, I slipped out the back and came straight here to see her." She looked up at him. "Were you…there?"

He nodded. "I'm one of the prosecutors. It's technically my father's case, but he's letting me get some experience in the courtroom under his guidance. He had me questioning Éponine when Montparnasse burst in." He looked down, placing his big hand on top of his "fiancée's" cold one, stroking the bony back of it. "I tried to take the bullet for her, but I was a split second too slow."

Azelma's eyes widened, and she looked down at his suit, still covered in blood. "Why?" she asked.

"That's what I'm still trying to figure out," he said with a humorless chuckle. "Ever since she came into the office and told me the truth, I've been angry at everyone and everything, including her – especially her." He sighed heavily. "But today…I knew I had to dash over to the other side of the courtroom and protect her."

"You didn't just do that," Azelma said quietly, looking him in the eyes. "You saved her life."

He smiled a little. "I suppose I did."

Azelma moved to sit closer to the sleeping Éponine and took her hand gently. "You remember the games we used to play around the inn when we were kids, 'Ponine?" she murmured softly, tucking her sister's hair back. "We would take turns being the hero, running around to faraway places, always saving the world…and when Gav was born, we always made him the damsel in distress," she laughed. Enjolras smiled to himself, getting the feeling that she was talking more to Éponine than him. But he was alright with it – he could hear about another side of her that he'd never gotten the chance to know before.

So he sat back and relaxed, listening to Azelma talking to her sister about their life as children – their games around the inn, learning to pickpocket, their first escapades with Patron-Minette, the way they had dreamed of a better life after their father got arrested the first time, and tried to shield Gav from their father and his gang. Occasionally he laughed with Azelma at her stories; occasionally he had to hold in a heartbroken sigh. The young woman's wild stories and quiet voice soon lulled him like a lullaby, and before he knew it he was sound asleep, dreaming of faraway places and lost childhood adventures.

**A/N: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Gav or the rest of the Amis! Hope you liked this chapter :) Please review, and feel free to (NICELY) leave your opinion on the Helsa ship!**


	10. Contemplating Her

**A/N: Hello again, friends! FYI, this may be my last update for a while - my sister is about to graduate from college, so I'll be pretty busy around the house, and I have to make some progress on the next chapter. But for now, you know the drill!**

Éponine awoke the next morning still in the hospital. She had to repress a momentary panic attack before she remembered everything leading up to how she got there – Enjolras questioning her at her father's trial, Montparnasse shooting up the courtroom with Brujon and Babet…

Enjolras saving her…

That was when she noticed that he was sound asleep in the chair next to her bed, in the same bloody suit that he had worn to court yesterday. _He must have stayed here all night…_

The man was more of an enigma than she had originally thought, she decided as she looked at him. The last time she'd seen him before the trial – was it really just two days ago? – he'd been yelling and screaming at her because she hadn't told him she was a thief's daughter and a prostitute. The next day – just yesterday? – he tried to take a bullet for her when her life was in danger. Éponine couldn't keep in a sigh of frustration. _Talk about mixed signals._

He stirred a little, and she sat up in the bed, trying to smile at him. "You stayed all night?" she asked, only letting some of her genuine surprise color her voice.

Enjolras slowly opened his eyes, adjusting his position in the chair and looking around the room. "I suppose I did," he mumbled, his voice still low and heavy with what lingered of sleep. As hard as she tried, Éponine couldn't keep her heart from skipping a beat at the sound. "Is Azelma still here?" he asked, looking around.

Her eyes widened when he mentioned her sister's name. "Wait. Azelma...came here?" she whispered.

"I suppose you were already asleep," he said half to himself, not noticing the look of mortal fear on her face. "Yes, she came here last night. She was worried about you."

Éponine started shaking her head, fear and worry all over her face as she ran her hands through her hair in frustration, ignoring the sudden, stabbing pain in her shoulder. "No…no 'Zelma, bad plan!" she hissed.

"What's wrong?" Enjolras frowned.

"If he knows she came to see me, Papa will think she's 'changing sides," she explained. "He thinks of me as a traitor now, because I testified against him. I almost said everything, and I only stopped because of Montparnasse's…interruption," she said crisply. "Papa will think that if she talked to us, she'll want to leave him, and that's less income coming in for him by the day. Which means more abuse for my brothers and her, if she manages to stay out of there. He might even kill her before she could go out and blab the way I did."

Enjolras paled, settling a little further into the chair. "So she could be in danger right now, and not even know it."

"Exactly," Éponine said grimly. "I have to get to her," she said, pushing back the bedsheets.

"No," Enjolras said firmly. He reached across her to put a hand on her good shoulder and make her lie back down, pulling the sheets up. "You were shot yesterday, Éponine; you need to take your time to fully recover. You'll be no good to your sister if you aggravate or infect that wound and have to stay longer."

"I'm no more help to her cooped up in here!"

Enjolras paused. "I'll go."

Éponine paused too, looking at him. "W-what?"

"I'll go," he repeated. "I'll round up my friends from law school and we'll go looking for her. We'll bring her back safe and sound, I promise."

Éponine was shocked. She couldn't believe that after what she told him, with all he knew about her family, about her he was still willing to help someone he barely knew, willing to help _her_. She could hardly keep the tears down that wanted so badly to well up in her eyes. "You…you'd do that?" she whispered.

"Of course I would, Éponine," he whispered back, taking her hand between his. "I care about Azelma's safety, too. If she's in trouble, I want to help get her out."

She almost burst into tears, and couldn't stop herself from pulling him into an enormous, bone-crushing hug. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, her voice shaking. "So much…"

Enjolras was shocked, to say the least, but wrapped his arms around her malnourished frame and hugged her back. "Anything for a friend, Éponine," he murmured. He stroked her hair back from her cheek and, a bit to his own surprise, kissed her temple before pulling back. "Now if you'll excuse me, my dear, I have a few phone calls to make," he grinned.

* * *

Several hours later, thanks to his phone calls and the enticement of liquor, Richard Enjolras, Jr. had finally managed to gather his closest group of law school friends – the ones who called themselves the _Amis _– at his apartment. They all made it – Combeferre, Jack Courfeyrac, Alan Grantaire, James Prouvaire, Stephen Joly, and of course Marius Pontmercy, the young man from France who had joined their little group just recently. Enjolras liked him, even though it seemed his attention had a tendency to wander to more idle pleasures.

Enjolras picked up the decorative gavel his father had given him on completion of law school and hit it against the wall three times. Gradually, the chatter faded and his friends turned to face him as he put the gavel back in its spot over the mantle.

"Gentlemen," he said, "we are not here on the usual orders of business. Tonight's meeting requires a bit of explanation on my part."

"Does it have to do with the shooting at the courthouse yesterday?" Joly asked curiously.

Enjolras nodded. "Indirectly, yes."

"Well, get to it, man!" Grantaire shouted from the corner. Even in spite of Prohibition, the man somehow almost constantly managed to stay intoxicated. Enjolras took a moment to gather his thoughts before beginning.

"A few weeks ago, Mac hired a new bartender at the Whitehorse. Her name is Éponine Thénardier. As some of you know, I got to be very close to her," he said, his gaze darting briefly to Combeferre as he spoke. His best friend gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement, and he continued. "However, what she hadn't told me was that she was the daughter of the thief my father was prosecuting." He decided to leave out that she was a prostitute. "I…got unreasonably angry…and I didn't see her again until the trial yesterday. Her father's chums were the ones who shot up the courtroom." He paused. "I almost took a bullet meant for her."

"Almost?" Courfeyrac asked.

"I was barely too slow," Enjolras explained. "It hit her in the shoulder, and I took her to the hospital. Her sister showed up last night to thank me for saving her, which is the reason we're all here." His friends frowned all in confusion before he continued. "Since Azelma came to the hospital, Éponine told me she may or may not be in danger right now. If Thénardier gets wind of the fact that she talked to me, he'll think she's 'changing sides' and will want to get out of helping him and his gang. If she doesn't manage to stay away from him, Éponine is afraid that their father may kill her. I need all of you to help me find her, and keep her safe, for her sake and Éponine's."

"Enjolras, are you sure this is a good idea?" Combeferre asked unsurely. "I know you want to help her because she's Éponine's sister, but what if we all end up in too deep?"

The first man frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if Thénardier decides to come after us to keep us quiet? We could all end up deeper in than we plan," he said. "I just want us to think this through and take the time develop a solid plan. Maybe Éponine could help."

"She's been shot, you idiot," Grantaire said sardonically from the corner. "How do you think she'll be able to help us?"

Enjolras shook his head. "No, 'Ferre has a point," he said, cutting off Grantaire before he could continue. "She's his daughter. She would know a lot, and she knows her sister well. Azelma mentioned to me that they were very close as children. If she's willing to help us, she could be a huge asset. However, we don't have much time to waste; we don't know how much Thénardier already knows. Uneducated as he is, he's certainly clever when it comes to evading the law and getting what he wants."

There was a pause, before the _Amis _started murmuring amongst themselves. Enjolras held his breath, hoping they'd help him. He'd made a promise to Éponine, so he'd do it anyway, but with his friends, he _knew_ he could save Azelma.

"Alright, we'll help you," Combeferre said. "What's the plan?"

* * *

Éponine lay in her hospital bed for most of the day, drumming her fingers on the sheets and trying to figure out what Enjolras' last words to her earlier. _"__Anything for a friend, Éponine," _he'd said. What the hell did he mean by that? Did he just think of her as a friend now? Or was he just trying to make her feel better? Did he feel something that he was pushing down while her father's case was open? Or did he want to be with her at all? Her mind went through all of the possibilities, one by one, unable to erase the handsome lawyer from her memory.

She started to think about the night that the two of them had gone to see Firebird, and the haunting melody of the lullaby echoed in her mind. Éponine closed her eyes and remembered every detail of that night, even the sound of Enjolras' quiet breathing in her ear as he watched the ballet. She wanted it all again – to share something that special with him, to hold his hand on accident, to make him smile the way he had all night.

With the passage of time, Éponine had forgotten the smaller details of their kiss, but when she thought about it hard enough, she could still feel Enjolras' lips on hers, even though the memory of his taste had faded. When she closed her eyes, she remembered - the feeling of his skin on hers as he held her chin, the way she had leaned in to press her lips to his...ah, there was the memory of his taste - sweet, but with another flavor she couldn't identify. She sighed quietly when she opened her eyes, wishing it would happen again...

Then he suddenly called her name.

"Éponine?" Enjolras said softly as he entered the hospital room, flanked by Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly and Grantaire. She sat up in bed, smiling at the five men as they walked in. Enjolras was glad to see her looking happier. "Are you feeling better?" he asked kindly.

She nodded. "Much, yes. It still hurts a little, but the doctors say I should be out fairly soon."

"Fantastic," he said, only letting his relief partially show. In truth, he was beyond comforted that she was going to be alright. Through every moment of yesterday's debacle at the courthouse, he hadn't cared what happened to him, as long as Éponine was safe. He didn't know why he still cared so deeply for her, but he did know that he was going to continue to look out for her.

She pulled her knees up to her chest under the sheets, before looking back to the select group of _Amis _that he'd brought with him. "I've already met Mr. Combeferre," she said, nodding to him, "but would you care to introduce me to the rest of your friends?"

"Yeah, Enjolras," one of them – a cheerful-looking young man with a messy mop of dark curls – laughed, nudging him gently in the arm. "Care to introduce us?"

He stiffened a little, looking slightly irritated at his friend. "Of course," he said a little stiffly, pointing first to the man who had just spoken. "This is Jack Courfeyrac; he's the only one of us that wanted to keep going to school. He's working towards his J.D. now, hoping to be on the Supreme Court."

"I look forward to getting to know you better, Ms. Éponine," he smiled, kissing her hand. She smiled at him, but couldn't stop herself from blushing deep red. He was certainly charming. Enjolras made a mental note to have a word with Courf later, but for the moment, he decided to let it lie.

"This is Mr. Stephen Joly, who's starting his practice in family law."

"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Thénardier," he said quietly, a small smile crossing his face as she gently shook her hand. Éponine smiled back at him, gently returning the shake. She got the impression that he was rather shy, but he was clearly a kind man.

"And over here, we have Mr. Alan Grantaire – "

"A proud law school dropout, fine wine enthusiast, and self-made philosopher and nihilist," the man loudly finished Enjolras' sentence as he approached Éponine's side, staggering only slightly and waving an empty bottle of wine in his tightly clenched right fist. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Enjolras suppressing a cringe. "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Éponine."

Enjolras made a note to also speak to Grantaire. "These four are some of my closest friends, and they'll be my primary aids in searching for your sister," he said. "I've already spoken with the rest of our little group, and they've all agreed to help."

Éponine was immediately paying more attention. "What's your plan?"

The five men seated themselves on and around her bed as Enjolras began to speak. "Right now, we plan to divide into teams not unlike the one here and split up, searching different areas of town for Azelma, or any signs of her presence. We'll also be looking within a mile radius; she can't have gone far without lots of money for cabs."

"Which I doubt she'll have, unless she's been picking lots more pockets than I thought in my absence," Éponine said. She looked down and took a deep breath, trying to think; she could feel Enjolras and the _Amis _watching her, waiting for her to speak again. "I want to go with you when you go out looking for her," she finally said. "Can you postpone the search until I'm discharged? If she's left town, she's likely to have left signs that I'll recognize, to let me know she's safe."

"Of course," Enjolras said with a nod.

"Let's wait a minute here," Grantaire said, gesticulating with the bottle he was still holding. "How do we know the girl's in any danger at all? She could be just fine."

Éponine shook her head. "Unlikely. 'Zelma's never been the best at staying out of trouble, of any kind. That was why I tried to talk to her about staying away from Montparnasse, but she – " The room fell silent as Éponine realized what she'd said. "Oh my God."

"What?" Combeferre asked worriedly. "What is it?"

Enjolras' eyes had grown wide with shock; he needed no further explanation after she had mentioned Montparnasse. Éponine looked at him, her eyes full of terror. "He's going to go after her."

"The shooter from the courthouse? You know him?" Courfeyrac asked, half-shocked and half-awed.

"All my life," Éponine said, nodding. "We were friends as children, before he decided to join my father's gang. He shot up the courthouse yesterday to get Papa out, and hit me in the shoulder when he saw I had been on the stand."

"He was involved with your sister?" Enjolras said sharply.

She nodded. "I don't know for how long. But we have to get to her as soon as possible. There's no way this can wait anymore," she said.

"I'll get your discharge papers from the doctor," Joly volunteered, practically jumping out of his chair.

"Thank you, Joly," Enjolras nodded before turning back to Éponine. "Come on, let's get you walking."

* * *

Montparnasse rested his feet on the pathetic excuse for a coffee table in front of him, putting a new cigarette between his lips and lighting it up. He was trying not to fume over the fact that he barely missed shooting that bitch Éponine in the heart at the courthouse yesterday…he chuckled to himself as he wondered what her pretty lawyer boyfriend would have done about it if he'd managed his goal.

They had been friends when they were young, he and Éponine…no, more than that. The term "childhood sweethearts" made Montparnasse want to vomit, but there really wasn't a better way to describe what his relationship to her had been before he joined Patron-Minette. What could have been different, he wondered…

"Oy, 'Parnasse!" Thénardier's rough voice jerked him out of his reverie. He took a long drag of his cigarette, not turning to face the man.

"Not so loud, Auguste. You don't want to get caught for abandoning court again," Montparnasse said coolly as he held his cigarette between his fingers. He knew he'd be in trouble for using his boss's highly despised Christian name, but he didn't care enough to spit out his last name. "What is it?"

Thénardier's eyes flashed for a moment, but he ignored 'Parnasse's use of his given name. "Where's my girl 'Zelma?" he growled instead.

Now Montparnasse turned around in surprise. "Azelma's gone?"

"Well, she ain't here," Thénardier snapped; he was much touchier on the subject of his younger daughter than usual. "When did ya last see her?"

The young thief hesitated, biting his lip. He couldn't truthfully tell Thénardier the last time he'd seen his daughter, because it had been under…not ideal circumstances. "I don't recall right now."

His boss glared at him for a moment longer before going back the other way, and Montparnasse was able to relax a little. He still wasn't sure what to think of his actions the night before – Azelma had gotten in late from wherever she'd been; she'd claimed to be out with an old friend, but he hadn't believed her. She'd been incredibly flirty when she got back, and once her father was gone, he'd gotten a little…frisky. They'd been kissing, and she'd pulled back when he reached down to pull up her skirts, asking him to stop and some nonsense like that. But by God, she'd gotten him excited and he wanted what he wanted.

He probably slapped her a little harder than he should have, come to think of it…and pinning her to the floor to force her legs apart may have been just a bit excessive…

_Nah, _he decided with a shrug, lighting another cigarette. _She was asking for it._

* * *

By the time Enjolras and the _Amis _accompanying him managed to get Éponine out of the hospital, it was nearly 7:00 in the evening, and they had no idea where to start looking for Azelma. Éponine wanted to go straight to the Patron-Minette base and give Montparnasse a piece of her mind – and perhaps her fist – but Enjolras somehow managed to talk her out of it. He wasn't quite sure how.

"If he's not above using violent force, we need to avoid him until you're fully healed," he reasoned with her. "You'd just end up right back in the hospital, and that wouldn't do anyone any good. Least of all Azelma."

Éponine sighed in irritation. "Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth. "What do you propose we do?"

"Where do you think your sister would have gone after seeing you at the hospital?" Courfeyrac asked, any hint of his joking demeanor from earlier now gone.

Éponine tried to rack her brain. "If she didn't go back to the Patron-Minette base…" she bit her lip. "I'm not sure."

"Well, why don't we go to the base and make sure she's not there before we do any more searching?" Combeferre suggested.

"We're not going back there, 'Ferre," Enjolras half-snarled through gritted teeth. "He _shot_ her. I'm not taking any more risks than are absolutely necessary."

"Enjolras, there's no need to search any more than is necessary," Combeferre said calmly. "The sooner we can find Azelma, the better, and if we eliminate one location, that will speed the process along."

They all looked to Enjolras for the final answer as he mulled over the options before them. He didn't want to deal with Montparnasse again if it was at all possible to avoid him, but Combeferre, as he always did, had raised a good point. "Alright, let's go," he said almost grudgingly. "Lead the way, Éponine."

**A/N: And, we'll continue the search for Azelma in the next chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. :)**


	11. Defending Her

**A/N: Big news, everybody! I want all of you to know that thanks to you, this story has set a new record for most reviews! I cannot tell you how happy and how grateful I am for all of your feedback and support. Kudos to Freedom909 for the 60th review, which officially broke the old record of 59 on One, Two, Tick, Tock! You're also an awesome collab partner! :) Alright everyone; y****ou know the drill - read, review, and most of all, enjoy!**

They made it to the base in just a few minutes. Éponine signaled for the men to be quiet as they approached the back entrance. "I'll go in there and try to reason with Montparnasse," she said quietly. "If anything starts to go wrong, I'll scream. All clear?" The five men nodded in unison. "Alright, here I go. Wish me luck," she said, her weak attempt at a chuckle belying her true nerves.

Enjolras ground his teeth as he watched her go in, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He hated this idea, especially since her wound hadn't even really healed. He knew she was in pain; she was probably trying to be tough while they searched for Azelma. If Montparnasse tried anything, she might end up back in the hospital, and Enjolras would have to kill him. In the moment that she disappeared, he wanted nothing more than to pull her back to him.

_Why are you thinking like that, Richard? You can't always be so protective of her. She's not yours; she was never yours to lose. You were supposed to let her go, weren't you?_

_Apparently I can't…_

* * *

Éponine went under the flap that led to the back of the Patron-Minette base. She realized as it whooshed closed behind her that she felt incredibly unguarded, without Enjolras and the _Amis _behind her. The pain in her shoulder was back, but she tried to ignore it as she stood up to her full height.

"Montparnasse, we need to talk."

"Is tha' you, 'Ponine?" he slurred loudly.

She gritted her teeth and sighed heavily, but quietly. _Drunk before sundown, of course. _"Yes, 'Parnasse; it's me," she said, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably.

He laughed far too happily for her comfort. "Come over here, 'Ponine! Come say hello to your 'Parnasse!"

A lantern was lit on the other side of the tent, and she edged towards it. Her stomach sank as she got closer and saw that there were three empty wine bottles scattered around him; he was working on a fourth. _Surely he didn't drink all that on his own...?_

He turned to look at her, still smiling to broadly for her to be anything approaching comfortable. She froze, not sure what to do. Did she scream now? Did she wait until he posed a threat? "Come on, baby, don't be afraid," he slurred again, pulling her down by the waist. "Come on and sit with me."

"'Parnasse, listen – "

He cut her off with a sloppy, drunken kiss. "Shh, no time for that, dollface," he grinned. "We have far more important things to do."

"Montparnasse, stop it!" she said angrily, pushing him away.

He slid a hand under her skirts and Éponine felt nauseated. "Calm down, baby; it's just me," he purred, slowly leaning her onto her back. Wildly, Éponine pushed hard on his shoulders as he tried to lean over her, slamming him into the wall as she scrambled to get out from under him. He managed to slap her once – a loud, hard slap – as she tried to get away, and she cried out in pain.

That was enough impetus for the _Amis_ to race through the back flap and towards her. Two familiar hands caught her by the shoulders and pushed her back behind – Enjolras. She watched in fear as the other four men restrained Montparnasse, and as Enjolras drew himself up to his full height. A rage that she had never seen before shadowed his handsome face. He was…_terrifying_. She had never seen such deep, righteous fury in any face before. The only thing she could think of that could equal it was the way her father used to look before he would punish her when she was a child, but that had been a different kind of anger.

"Enjolras – " she tried to stammer out.

"Stay back, Éponine," he said firmly, but not angrily as he watched his four friends press the thief into the wall behind them. "I need to have a word with this bastard."

"Be careful," she murmured in his ear. "He's capable of some terrible things." A small chill went down his spine, the way it always did when her breath went across his skin, and he nodded once to her, before approaching Montparnasse.

Enjolras had to work to contain his desire to kill the man in front of him. No, not a man – he was so much less than a man. He had taken advantage of both Éponine and her sister, and had dared to slap her, his beautiful Éponine, in the face. The fact that he had used violence and his "manhood" as tools to make her live in fear was what set Enjolras' blood ablaze. _That _was what made Montparnasse the filth Enjolras considered him to be.

"Ah, the pretty boy prosecutor returns," Montparnasse drawled.

Enjolras couldn't contain himself anymore, and he lashed out with a vicious right hook that took all of his might. The thief's head bounced hard off the wall behind him when Enjolras' fist connected with the side of his face. "Where's Azelma, you scumbag?" Enjolras growled. "If you've hurt her…"

Montparnasse chuckled as he spat blood. "Got two girlfriends now, do you pretty boy? And sisters, besides! Tell me, how do they compare?"

Enjolras was about to punch him again as Éponine caught his arm. "Don't. It just encourages him," she hissed. "The more you punch, the more he knows he's got you riled up. It's a mind game." With several deep breaths, he lowered his arm, and she stepped back.

"It's not about me," Enjolras said through clenched teeth. "Éponine is worried about her sister. Now tell us, where is she?"

Montparnasse clucked his tongue. "Sweet little Éponine, always so worried about everyone else," he chuckled dryly. "Has she told you her little secret yet, pretty boy?"

"Dammit man, where's the girl?" Grantaire shouted.

"She's not here!"

Éponine's stomach dropped. "No…" she whispered. "No!"

"Éponine – " Enjolras tried to stop her as she ran forward, grabbing Montparnasse by the shoulders.

"Where is she, 'Parnasse?!" Éponine cried desperately, shaking him. "Where's my sister?! You have to tell me now!"

He raised an eyebrow at her hysterics. "Why are you suddenly so desperate to find her?"

"That's none of your concern," Enjolras snapped over Éponine's shoulder. "Just tell us where she is, or by God, I'll have your head."

The thief laughed brazenly at the lawyer. "Are you so determined to save every little wretch you may meet?" he asked harshly. "One minute you're working with your father, the opposite of a champion of the poor, and now you've become one. Tell me, what has to happen for such a transformation to take place?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back for Richard Heiland Enjolras, Jr. He picked the man up by the front of his shirt and picked him up off the ground. "Listen to me, and listen well," he snarled, holding Montparnasse very close to his face; his feet were no longer touching the ground. "I will not be lectured by one who has turned his back on others. My path is clear; I _will _protect Éponine, Azelma, and any innocent person I may meet, no matter the cost to myself. I will save them all from scum like you, and I will be the one to ensure that you can never touch them again. You are less than a man, and you will get what you deserve in the end."

"Oh, we all know 'Parnasse ain't a man," another voice sounded from the darkness. "Question is, what does tha' make me?"

Éponine paled and gripped Enjolras' shoulder as he dropped Montparnasse to the ground. "Papa…" she whispered in mortal fear, her voice barely audible. Without thinking, Enjolras slipped an arm around her waist to pull her tightly against him; she pressed against him, shaking like a leaf. As long as he had a say in the goings on, Thénardier wasn't going to touch his daughter. He tried to channel some of his courage and strength into her; he knew she needed it the most.

"Hello, 'Ponine," the voice said as he stepped into the light. Enjolras and the _Amis _tried not to cringe at his appearance. The light threw grotesque shadows on his face, making him look skeletal. His teeth were the same shade of yellow as the light, and his eyes were sunken into his face. "What's yer lil' boyfriend doin' 'ere? Ain't 'e too good ta be seen in this part o' town?"

"We're looking for Azelma," Courfeyrac said, trying to divert attention from Enjolras. "Éponine was worried about her."

"And who th' 'ell 're you?" Thénardier snapped.

"Just a friend," he shot back. "We're all friends here."

The criminal raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is tha' how ye want it ta be?" he asked, his tone getting dangerous. "All o' us bein' _friends?"_

Éponine knew Courfeyrac had made a mistake. She sensed the shift in her father's mood and tugged on Enjolras' sleeve. "We should split," she hissed.

As she spoke, they heard the quiet sound of a knife hissing out of its sheath. As Enjolras turned his head, he saw Montparnasse getting up. He jumped out of the way just in time, also missing a punch from Thénardier. Combeferre managed to grab the knife from Montparnasse and punch him in the chest as Enjolras hit Thénardier in the stomach. The _Amis_ and Éponine quickly ran away before the two criminals could recover.

"That was close," Combeferre said as he regained his breath.

"Too close," Enjolras growled, straightening his suit. Éponine could tell he was still unhappy that they had gone there at all, and hoped they could change the subject soon.

"But at least now we know the girl's not here," Grantaire said.

"Azelma!" Éponine cut in sharply. There was a quiet pause as they all looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to recover. "Her name is Azelma," Éponine said, a little more calmly.

"And we will find her for you, Éponine," Courfeyrac said gently. "We promise, all of us do."

She barely smiled, but it was the closet she'd come to a smile in days. "Thank you, gentlemen."

Enjolras stepped over to her and gently clasped her hand in his. "We're here for you, Éponine. All of us," he said firmly. "But I think that coming here was still a mistake. For tonight, we need to plan an efficient way to search the city."

"Let's go back to my apartment, and we can discuss our options there," Éponine offered.

Enjolras nodded. "Alright, that sounds like our best option for now. Let's go."

* * *

Fantine sat in her little shack in the slums of New York City, pulling her thin, wearing shawl a little tighter around her frame as a cold wind blew through. She hadn't heard from Richard Enjolras, Jr. in several days, and hoped it was because he was making further developments on the case she had asked him to look into.

_Don't be ridiculous, Fantine,_ she told herself. _He has more important things to worry about than you and Cosette, especially when he doesn't even have his damn law license yet._

A knock at the pitiful excuse for a door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she said softly. The door opened, and the last man she expected to see walked in. Her stomach dropped, and she couldn't keep her jaw from doing the same. "You..." she whispered.

"Hello, Fantine," he said. "How long has it been?"

"28 years, to be precise," she said coldly. "What do you want with me, Richard?"

"I'm looking for my son. He picked up my old journal a few days ago, claiming that he wanted just to look at one entry, and I haven't heard from him since. He still has it. Have you seen him?"

Her breath caught for a moment; she prayed to God that Richard the younger hadn't done anything to hint that he was working for her. "I don't believe I've even met your son," she answered as calmly as she could, even though her heart was racing. "You never told me you had a family all those years ago, remember?" she added, failing to keep some bitterness out of her tone.

He clearly bristled, but ignored her. "More to the point, I need to see Felix. Is he here?"

Fantine shook her head. "He went out to some of his speakeasies a few hours ago. I don't know when he'll be back."

Richard groaned. "Fantine, you know I need my next shipment soon."

"That's up to him, not me," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "He's the bootlegger of the family, not me. Now, if you'll excuse me, my daughter and I have to eat. Cosette!" she called into the other small room of the hovel, exactly the way Richard Enjolras, Sr. remembered it. He promptly left before he could see the girl, coming face to face with the man he wanted to see.

"Ah, Felix! I was just looking for you," he said, shaking the man's hand. "Your wife said you were out."

"I was," Felix said in his thick Boston accent as he lit a fresh cigarette. "Don't worry; I'll have your next shipment in a couple of days. The fuzz are cracking down, so it's gonna take a little longer."

Richard wanted to punch something. "Felix, I can't wait much longer!" he exclaimed. "I've been going dry for almost a week, and things are about to get ugly!"

"Calm down, Richard," Felix said. "You have my word, you'll be my first delivery as soon as it gets to me. Alright?"

He was unsatisfied, but this was the best deal he could get. "Done. Don't disappoint me, Felix."

* * *

Enjolras and the _Amis_ stayed up with Éponine into the wee hours of the morning, planning and talking and strategizing, trying to figure out a quick way to figure out Azelma's location as the liquor supply slowly dwindled. Éponine had several ideas, but varying feelings on each, which she would bounce off the _Amis_, and they would all collectively debate. Enjolras, thankfully, kept the argument to a minimum and always encouraged Éponine to speak her mind. They all acknowledged her as the default leader of the operation, since they were looking for her sister, and she knew the streets the best.

At about 3:00 in the morning, Enjolras came back from the restroom to the other four men lying haphazardly on the living room floor - all of them sound asleep. Éponine was standing in the kitchen, chuckling to herself as she looked at them. She was still smiling when their eyes met, and he navigated the maze of sprawled limbs to go stand by her. "I suppose they got tired?" he murmured.

She nodded. "I told them they didn't have to drive back to their places if they didn't want to. I guess they decided to take me up on it," she smiled.

Her smile was infectious, and Enjolras couldn't help but return it. "Grantaire can never stay awake for long if he's had enough alcohol," he chuckled. "How much whiskey did he have?"

"Quite a bit," she said softly. "I was wondering how much it would take." The two of them stood there in silence for a brief moment, before she spoke again. "Thank you…for everything today," she said softly, not making eye contact with him. "I was afraid of Montparnasse for the first time in a long time when I went in there…"

"You don't need to be afraid if I'm with you, Éponine," he said gently. "I'll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe." To his surprise, she hugged him in gratitude, tighter than she ever had. He was a little hesitant, but soon embraced her also.

His thoughts were torn as he held her again. It all felt so right – her head against his chest, his arms around the small of her back, her long hair tickling the top of his arm, the feeling of her breathing against him…did he say something now? What did he say if he did? What was he supposed to do? Did he even still love her? All these questions and more raced through his mind with no answers in sight.

Thankfully, though, she spoke first as she pulled away. "You're welcome to stay, too, if you want," she said gently. "I have a spare room in the back, or you can have my bed. I won't mind sleeping on the floor for one night."

He shook his head. "If one of us gets a bed, it's you," he insisted. "And don't argue this with me, because you won't win."

Éponine chuckled. "Alright, if you insist. Come on, I'll show you where the room is."

* * *

In just a few minutes, Enjolras had gotten comfortable for the night, but he couldn't seem to go to sleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning he sat up in the bed, running his hands over his face. What was it about sleeping at her apartment that was so...weird? There was nothing going on between them; she was just being hospitable. Perhaps he would say something to her tomorrow after the boys left…yes, that was a better plan.

He lay back down and shifted onto his side with a sigh, closing his eyes. Slowly, he fell asleep.

He did not dream.

**A/N: Don't worry, guys; the long-awaited Enjonine reconciliation is coming soon, I promise! Please let me know what you think :)**


	12. Loving Her, Part Two

**A/N: Hi guys! So, my parents surprised my sister and I with tickets to see the Steve Miller Band and Journey, and it was AMAZING. I haven't had a lot of time to write as a result, but I scratched out the last half of this chapter in the car on the way home! It's a little shorter than usual, but I hope you enjoy it! :)**

Éponine woke up more slowly than usual the next morning. As she slowly regained consciousness, she sat up in her bed, looking for the clock that stood next to it. 9:30 a.m. Inexplicably, something felt different about this morning, she thought to herself as she ran a hand through her hair…what was it? She couldn't seem to remember.

Then it came back to her – the man in the room across the hall. Which reminded her, there were four more presumably still sprawled out on her living room floor. With a quiet groan, she forced herself to get out of bed and quietly open her door. The door across the hall was closed; she presumed that Enjolras was still asleep. Her bare feet padded softly down the carpet of the short hallway to the front of her apartment, where there were still four sleeping men, but slightly rearranged into a more organized pattern. She stepped very carefully over Joly's head and Courfeyrac's torso into the kitchen and started brewing coffee. Gradually, all four men roused as the smell drifted to them.

"Mmmh…is that what I think it is?" Grantaire mumbled as he staggered to her kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Éponine almost wondered how bad his hangover would be from all the whiskey he'd drunk during their planning session last night.

She grinned as the other three followed him in a similar fashion. "Indeed it is," she laughed. "Who wants coffee?"

"Did someone say coffee?" a sleepy, familiar voice sounded at the top of the hall. Enjolras had made it to the front of the apartment, still wearing the same clothes as the day before, but slightly more wrinkled. He was rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes as he walked over to the kitchen, and Éponine couldn't help but smile at him. The look on his tired face was so innocent, almost like that of a child. She found herself wanting to hold him, care for him…_love_ him.

"Yes, I did," she laughed. "Oh, and does anyone want eggs? I'm more than happy to make breakfast."

"You cook? I love you!" Four voices sounded in perfect unison.

Éponine and Enjolras both started to laugh. "Deal me in too, Éponine," Enjolras added quietly.

* * *

For about an hour, the six of them sat around Éponine's tiny dining room table – Grantaire ended up sitting on Courfeyrac's lap – eating breakfast, drinking coffee and laughing. She discovered that Enjolras and Combeferre loved cracking jokes at each other, and that even though he was the quietest one there, Joly could be incredibly dry when he wanted to be; Courfeyrac and Grantaire got several zingers for their seating arrangement.

One by one, the _Amis_ gradually left, until Éponine and Enjolras were alone in the kitchen. They were both quiet for a moment, neither one really knowing what to say, especially Éponine. After all, it was the first time they'd been alone together since the incident in his father's office. She looked down into her coffee for a moment, contemplating something to say. Finally, she managed to speak up.

"I hope that bed was okay last night," she said a little awkwardly, almost shyly.

Thankfully, he nodded. "It was great. I actually slept really well."

"Good, I'm glad."

_Back to awkward silence it is, _Enjolras thought as he, too, contemplated what to say next. He drummed his fingers on the sides of the coffee mug for a moment, looking down.

_Weren't you going to say something to her once the rest of the boys left, Richard? This is it. It's now or never._

"Listen, Éponine…" he began hesitantly, not even sure of what he wanted to say. He sighed softly, faltering a little. _I'm a lawyer. I'll improvise. What the hell._

"I'm so sorry," she burst out before he could say anything else, clearly on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry that I lied to you by omission for so long, I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to help me, I'm sorry I wasn't brave enough last night, I'm sorry for making myself a burden to you…God save me, I'm so sorry for everything…"

Gradually, her tears started to fall, as much as she tried to hold them in. Enjolras could only pull her into his chest and hold her, stroking her hair and gently shushing her as she cried, murmuring sweet nonsense in an attempt to calm her down. As her cries finally started to hush, he pulled back from her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Éponine, listen to me," he said gently, but with an earnest undertone that he could hardly contain. "You were completely within your rights to not tell me something I know you could never be proud of. I volunteered to help you because I wanted to do what I could for Azelma. You are one of the bravest people I have ever known; you faced Montparnasse last night at great risk to yourself, and I hardly saw you flinch. And more than anything, you have _never _been a burden to me, Éponine. You couldn't be a burden if you tried." Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered earnestly, "You're too perfect for that."

Then he kissed her.

It was not the most perfect kiss he could have imagined, but he wouldn't have wanted it without the tiny flaws that made it theirs. Her chapped lips tasted of her tears; she was still crying even as she kissed him back with everything she had. Enjolras almost felt as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he pressed his mouth against hers, so close to him that neither of them could breathe. He didn't want to breathe; it was too hard when he was with her. As they kissed, her tears making the crossover from her cheeks to his, he only wanted more. Enjolras opened his mouth to hers and let their tongues run together. His hands moved all the way down to the small of her back, pressing her even closer to him. He'd missed everything about this, and it felt good to have it back.

When they finally pulled apart to gasp for air, he immediately pulled her close again, squeezing her tightly. "Oh, Éponine…" he whispered, stroking her hair. "My beautiful Éponine…you know I still love you."

She looked up at him, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes, still catching her breath from the kiss. "Y-you do?" she asked, her voice still broken from her sobs.

Enjolras couldn't help but smile. "Of course I do, Éponine," he murmured gently into her hair. "Of course I do. I never truly stopped." He paused, pulling back from her as he continued. "I was angry with you for a long time…so angry. But I always ached for that missing piece in my life that you filled. More than anything…I missed you. I missed you when I didn't realize it, when I was angry, when I didn't want to miss you…I thought about you all the time. I wanted…exactly what just happened."

Éponine was smiling now, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. "I missed you too, Enjolras…all the time." She paused to gather her own thoughts. "After that day at your father's office…I knew I couldn't go home. So Mac let me stay in the back room of the Whitehorse…and then the fuzz picked us both up the next morning. They thought Mac was also running a prostitution business in addition to the speakeasy."

Enjolras clenched his teeth, but said nothing. This was all the confirmation he needed that she was the one his father wanted him to prosecute when he closed her father's trial. _He must have turned them both in to catch her, _he thought to himself.

"Those few nights I spent in prison…I was so alone. All I'd wanted was to clear the air between us. I wanted you to know the whole truth about me; that's why I decided to tell you. You had every right to know…because I love you too."

Enjolras' heart swelled when he heard her; he was at a complete loss for words. He hugged her again, even tighter than before; he didn't know how else to express his feelings. "Listen…there's something I need to tell you," he said gently. "Something you deserve to know."

They sat down on her couch, and Enjolras took a moment to gather his thoughts. "The reason I snapped at the office that day was...well, before you came to see me, another woman had come in…"

* * *

Richard Enjolras, Sr. was doing something he never did. He knew he'd wear a path in this expensive carpet if he kept pacing around his apartment for much longer, but he was too nervous to sit still. He'd expected his next order from Felix days ago, and he was quickly becoming a desperate man. He knew he needed to stop, and not just his pacing on his good carpet.

Ever since his Maëlys had died, he'd taken to the bottle to ease the pain of her passing. It was so painful to think about her – or even to remember her name – for so many years…practically every time he looked at his young son, he had to open another bottle – beer, wine, whiskey, whatever he could get his hands on. As soon as he put Richard to bed every night, he had to start drinking. If he tried to skip it for one night, he regretted it in the morning – more than when he had too much. The drink was a harsh, unforgiving mistress.

When Prohibition was enacted, he knew it would get harder to keep up his habit. For a while, he frequented Mac's speakeasy behind the general store, often taking Richard with him, once he was old enough to drink. He'd keep himself in check when he drank with his son, before he went home and drank as much as he wanted.

That was before he met Felix Tholomyés, the bootlegger who had become his personal supplier for the last several months. He was one of the best in New York; ever since the law was enacted, he'd never been caught. No one knew how he managed to evade law enforcement so well, especially since he liked to cross state lines, but he always did. The sun was starting to go down, which meant Felix should be coming soon with his next shipment.

Richard was still convincing himself that he'd done the right thing, turning in Mac in order to catch his son's little girlfriend. He and Mac had been friends for years, and drinking buddies for years before he opened up the speakeasy. Had he been wrong to turn in his friend…?

_Of course not, Richard. You caught the little bitch, didn't you? Just like you wanted? There's no good reason for your son to be around that. You did it to protect your son. Mac was just collateral damage, and all will be forgiven._

Finally, a knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts – and his pacing. He turned straight for the door, looking quickly at the distorted shape of Felix through the peephole, before opening it. "About damn time you got here," he grumbled as he let the bootlegger in, locking the door. "I was about to wear a path in the carpet; I could hardly sit still." His voice was haggard and angry; he needed liquor.

"Calm down, Richard," Felix said irritably as he put out his cigarette. "I've got your shipment here, as promised."

The attorney visibly relaxed. "Good. I've been getting impatient."

"Aren't you always around delivery time?" Felix muttered under his breath, unveiling the large brown paper sack he carried in his trenchcoat. Richard heard the bottles rattling against each other, and his heart picked up in anticipation of the drink. "You're lucky this was a good haul for me," Felix said as he set the bag down on the table. Three bottles of whiskey, two bottles of wine, and six beers sat between them.

Richard grabbed the first bottle of whiskey and effortlessly opened it, guzzling from it like a dying man given water. The neck was empty when he finally stopped and set the bottle down for air. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting the alcohol relax him. "Your payment will be the usual, then?" he asked coolly, his tone noticeably less haggard than before. "I know some bootleggers have started kicking their prices up."

"Of course," Felix said with a nod. "You're a paying, regular customer. I'm not going to raise your price." The other man nodded, standing up and getting out his wallet. He fished out the usual number of bills and handed them to Felix, who pocketed them where the bag of liquor had been. "See you soon," the bootlegger said as he left.

Richard locked his apartment door again, promptly going back to his kitchen table and picking up his favorite shot glass. The Thénardier trial was about to close, and then he would get his son to toss that grifter of his in jail, no matter what it took. He would be his son's savior, and the girl would end up where she belonged – safe behind bars, with her scumbag of a father.

_Everything is falling into place perfectly._

* * *

The stars were out when Enjolras' full story was finally complete. Éponine was looking down and shaking her head, thunderstruck. "I don't understand…" she said slowly. "You have a half-sister from your father's affair with Fantine Tholomyés?" she asked, incredibly confused.

Enjolras nodded slowly, his jaw clenched. "I think it must have contributed to my mother's depression spiraling out of control for the first few years of my life," he said tightly. "I was only four years old when she died, but I was old enough to know and understand how much she loved my father. She absolutely adored him. If she'd ever known about his affair, it would have broken her heart. Especially if she found out that he fathered another child."

Éponine nodded. "That's understandable. But how are you planning to prosecute him?"

Enjolras sighed, running a hand over his face. "I don't know. You have to understand, Éponine, this is every lawyer's worst nightmare. My father knows every trick in the book, and he taught me everything he could without sending me to law school as a child. I'll be prosecuting a man who can predict my every move, and figure out exactly how to evade me. Not to mention he'll have the help of a defense attorney."

"Can't you use the journal in court?" Éponine asked.

"Technically I can, but it may not be enough. Depending on which judge I draw, it might be considered too circumstantial. And since this case is almost as old as I am, it's going to be extremely hard for me to get more traditional, concrete evidence to use in court. Even with Cosette's resemblance to him, sealing a conviction will be the tricky part. He's always been an upstanding citizen and a respected lawyer; no jury would want to contribute to his downfall without hard proof."

She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Show me the entry again."

Enjolras picked up his father's journal from where it sat on the coffee table in front of them, which he had now marked with small slips of paper where the key entries were. He opened it to the proper date and read the entry aloud again.

_18 September, 1903_

_I have just made possibly the worst mistake of my adult life thus far. I had too much to drink last night, and as a result, I must have gone to bed with Fantine Leblanc last night, because I woke up in her hovel this morning. She sleeps in the bed as I quickly write this; I must get home as soon as I can._

_Maëlys will be distraught that I never made it back last night, and I don't know how I will have to explain myself to her. Oh God, what have I done to myself? To my marriage? To my two-year-old son? He's just learning to talk now, and my wife has been stricken with some kind of sadness for the last two years since his birth. The doctors can't figure out what it is. Every time I look at them now, I will only be filled with guilt for this wicked sin I have committed._

Enjolras put the journal back down and started to think again. Éponine was starting to understand more of the nuances of his facial expressions as she looked at him closely – his brow was low and slightly furrowed, his eyes were staring at something indistinct, his jaw tightened, his breathing evened, his hands steepled in front of his face. It was an expression of deep, hard thought, rather than anger.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"This is the most incriminating entry I can find in the entire journal, especially since I talked to Fantine and Cosette," he said slowly. "She gave me all the details from her side of the night, right down to the exact date he slept with her. On this page, it's clear that he's guilt ridden for having an affair, even by accident. That opens up an alleyway for me to play on the psychology of the situation in court. If there was something he didn't put down in the journal, then perhaps I could carefully needle a confession out of him. Either way, in the entry from the day my mother died, he makes a vow to not support Cosette. Here," he said, turning the pages to the last paragraph of the entry. "This is the last sentence: _'__I can only conclude that Fantine Leblanc seduced me, and I will not support her, even if the child is mine. I do not care anymore.' _There's no way that the jury could deny a resemblance between him and Cosette, which would seal the deal if no other snags come up. I just don't know how to prepare for those snags when I have no idea what they might be."

Éponine nodded. "That certainly sounds tricky. Have you talked to Combeferre about this at all? He might be able to help you."

"I haven't, actually," he answered, pondering her suggestion. "I'll give him a call and we can talk at my apartment later tonight. I could even pick you up and let you participate, if you like."

She shook her head sadly. "I shouldn't. I'll be on trial once my father's case is closed," she said.

Enjolras sighed. "I forgot about that." He stood up from her couch, pulling on his coat. "I'll let you know everything that happens, though. I'm sure 'Ferre will have some good things to contribute."

"I'm sure he will," she said.

He smiled again, pulling her close. The joy of having her back in his arms still hadn't gone away, and he wondered if it ever would. "I love you, Éponine," he murmured into her hair, kissing her lips again.

"I love you too, Enjolras," she smiled back, hugging him again. They stood there for a moment longer, embracing next to the open window, before they quickly kissed again, she let him out of her apartment and locked the door behind him.

As he drove away from the apartment and she walked away from the window, neither of them saw the dandy who slipped into the shadows of the alley across the street and ran back towards his base.

**A/N: So even as our lovers reunite, we have some suspense...let me know what you think of that scene! Sorry to keep you waiting!**


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